


Chances May Crown

by Elywyngirlie



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe-Fantasy Elements, Archery, Arranged Marriage, Betrayal, Civil War, F/M, Finnpoe elements, Friends to Lovers to Enemies to Lovers, Gen, Inspired by The Princess' Man, No Force Powers, Our boy will be ok, Poisonings, Political Drama, Political Intrigue, Princess Rey, Pure Reylo, Sneaking out of the castle, Spies & Secret Agents, Swordplay, get those tombstone orders in, horse riding, royal au, the gang's all here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:14:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22025395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elywyngirlie/pseuds/Elywyngirlie
Summary: Emperor Palpatine seeks to assuage a rebellion with the marriage of his granddaughter to the son of the rumored rebellion's leader.Too bad Rey fell in love with a market boy named Kylo.Too bad Ben Solo met a sweet girl in the marketplace, one who won't give him her name.Too bad, it all comes crashing down around them.Inspired by Korean Drama, The Princess's Man.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 132
Kudos: 246





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings;  
> Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings.  
> (Richmond, Act 5 Scene 2)

Emperor Palpatine barely listened as his adviser droned on about a problem within the Trade Federation, tapping the throne. His eye was on his war minister, Moff Tarkin, whose mouth was taking a decidedly dour turn. His features, already pinched and cadaverous, were growing more sallow by the minute, the scar that blinded one eye growing whiter with each passing moment. Palpatine sighed. 

“Enough,” he snarled at Gunray who scuttled back, head bowing. “Everyone out. I must speak with Moff Tarkin.” Murmurs rose which he tried to quell with a scathing glower. It worked for most. Tarkin bent his head toward his assistant, passing the redheaded man a note. Palpatine noted who rose their chins higher as they left. That bloody Huttese delegation, he thought sourly. As the room cleared, he turned his attention to Tarkin. 

“Well,” he demanded. “Spit it out.”

“Sire, we have a problem with some of your more outlying regions,” Tarkin began crisply. “There is talk of rebellion.”

“Isn’t there always?” 

“Yes but in this case, there is evidence that Princess Leia has met with certain unsavory elements. And that she has given refuge to the Jedi.” Palpatine waved his hand. The Jedi were a monastic order, relegated to hauling around their precious texts. Hardly a threat. He had arranged for their deaths eons ago, it felt. The few did not constitute a danger. Their greatest fighters had been eliminated by their best one, groomed by Palpatine himself. 

“I have told you to leave Leia and the Alderaan delegation alone. Don’t let the loss of your eye make you blind to the true problems in the empire.” Palpatine chuckled at his own insult and Tarkin’s fingers reached up to brush the Imperial grey eyepatch. His lips twisted and Palpatine raised his hand. 

“What do you want?” Palpatine asked. Tarkin bowed, favoring him with a thin smile. Palpatine supposed that was supposed to demonstrate his gratitude. 

“I understand you have a granddaughter coming of age,” he replied carefully. Palpatine sat up straighter, eyes narrowing. “Alderaan itself has an unmarried man. He’s older than your granddaughter, but not significantly enough that it is a problem. And,” here Tarkin lowered his eyes almost coquettishly so that Palpatine snorted, “they say he is well versed in the Jedi way.”

“That would be a violation of the treaty I signed with Vader’s children, if true,” Palpatine growled. He stroked his jaw, gazing into the distance. The past, it seemed, could never be grown beyond. It continued to haunt them and drive their actions--particularly his, he was loath to admit. He sighed. 

“Order them here. Cast it under a request for whatever Gunray was babbling about. It’s near autumn anyways and harvest always brings about financial discussions. Perhaps we shall levy a new tax on them if they don’t,” Palpatine mused. “And do not approach my granddaughter about this. Only I shall.”

“But her ladies--” Tarkin protested and Palpatine held up a hand. He fell silent, casting his gaze on the floor before bowing. “It shall be as you wish, your majesty.” Palpatine flicked his hand at him, indicating the audience was over. Tarkin scuttled out, his movements rapid, his carriage still erect. He was a proud man, Palpatine thought, finger running over his lips. He must be watched. 

Groaning with the weight of his ceremonial robes, Palpatine rose from his throne, servants rushing toward him to clear the path. His guards fell in behind him as he strode through the columns out into the greying light. A summer storm crackled on the horizon and he imagined his farmers were praying for the rain. He wondered what Tarkin would gain from the marriage and imagined the world of torment he would have planned for the young man. It was typical for a royal suitor to pass a series of tests. Tarkin would demand that he run them and Palpatine would only extract a promise that the Alderaan heir would survive.

Of course, survival could mean many things, Palpatine thought, tracing his own scars on his chalk colored flesh. He strode across the courtyard, smiling benevolently at one of his concubines, before a sharp laugh caught him. 

Palpatine turned to see a horse prancing in the yard. Alight, her eyes bright, was Reynessa Palpatine, her hair flowing behind her, her skirts hiked up to bare her thick calves. He narrowed his eyes as she controlled the wild horse, bringing him to heel so that he began a rather sedate canter in the courtyard. He saw the captain of her guards, Geneieve Phasma, clapping and laughing, and he bit back a snarl.  Sedately gliding toward her, one eye on Rey’s masterful control of the horse, he paused before Phasma. Seeing her Emperor, her face blanched and she bowed deeply. He smiled down at her, a beneficent man. 

“Captain Phasma,” he said quietly, “when I decided on an all female guard for my granddaughter, I’d assume that it would be because they would understand propriety. Unfortunately, it seems that I was remiss in that, wouldn’t you say?”

“No, my liege,” Phasma relied, although he could hear her grinding her teeth. His fists clenched. So much rebellion in her, he thought. He knew of her past. He knew of her clan, how they battled for dominance, that sex did not matter in the face of power and survival in the Parnassos mountains. But it bred insolence, he mused. Insolence that must be directed toward something else. 

“If I were a man quick to anger, I would order all those who have seen her legs have their eyes gouged out,” he said thoughtfully. “And I would ask you to do it.” She glanced up quickly, her eyes shaded by her silver visor. His lips pulled back for a knife edged smile. “What would you think of that?”

Her lips thinned but she replied, respect almost edged out of her words: “I would do as you request, my liege.”

“Good. Now get Reynessa off that horse and into lessons. And once you do, find the man. And gouge out those eyes. I expect a collection by the end of the day.” He patted her head, aware of the hate glimmering within her, and returned to the courtyard. Rey spotted him and her smile quickly faded. She swung one leg over the horse, arranging her skirts, but the horse, a brilliant white and brown spotted stallion, resisted. It began bucking wildly. She clung to its reins, whispering to it, but it reared again, hooves batting the air. Rey screeched as she pulled on the reins but the horse kicked its rear legs before leaping forward.

With a scream, Rey slid off the horse and quickly rolled, narrowly missing the stomping hooves. A hostler ran out, snatching the lead and waving a carrot in the horse’s face. Palpatine snorted at the same time as the horse. The horse plunged its head forward, knocking the hostler back, before it resumed its angry trot in the courtyard. Guards rushed out, their spears locked together, to keep the horse back. 

Rey leapt to her feet, her arms out wide. 

“Steady, boy, steady,” she murmured, her cadence as soothing as possible. “It’s alright, Beebee. It’s alright. I’ve got some delicious oats. Would you like some? Or an apple? Perhaps some sugar?” Beebee’s ears went flat and it edged closer to the guards, the whites of his eyes showing. Palpatine sighed and signaled Phasma who called for an archer. Rey’s back stiffened and she whirled around. Palpatine cocked his head and her lip curled. She turned back to the horse, her feet a slow scuffle, crooning nonsense.

Beebee looked at her, chest heaving, but he did not move. He watched her carefully as she slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out a handful of sugar. His ears twitched forward. Palpatine held up his hand. Rey paused in front of Beebee, palm flat, the sugar glittering in the fading sun. Thunder munched in the background and Beebee took a tentative step backward. 

“It’s just a little thunder, silly,” Rey teased and Beebee snorted before dipping his head, tongue flicking out to taste the sugar. Pleased, he moved toward Rey, lapping at the sugar in her hand. He seemed puzzled when it was all gone but gamely took the carrot she offered. Rey’s fingers slipped around the lead, wrapping it around her hand. She petted Beebee’s nose, who leaned toward her, and a sigh rippled through the crowd. 

“No need for an archer, Captain Phasma,” Palpatine ordered as he moved toward his granddaughter. The hostler hurried toward Rey and she waved him off.

“I’ll walk him to his stable. Since you can’t seem to handle him,” she said, the lightness of her tone hiding the sneer. Palpatine moved to stroll beside her. 

“Well done, Reynessa,” he greeted. “Although there would have hardly been a need for your heroics if you had followed the rules in the first place.”

“I don’t see why I can’t ride,” Rey whined, beginning her familiar litany. “Phasma does it.”

“She is a guard, you are a princess. Different roles require different functions.”

“Queen Amidala rode into battle,” Rey pointed out and Palpatine shook his head. How the past reared up yet again. “And she wasn’t the only one,” Rey continued. “I heard a story about Asajj Ventress, who was a lieutenant in the Separtist Army.”

“Yes, a lieutenant who fell in love and ultimately tried to betray her own general. Hardly an example one aspires to be,” Palpatine responded dryly. “The point is, Rey, you would know all of this if you kept to your studies. Your masters praise your diligence and work ethics. How am I to leave my empire to you if you don’t understand what roles you need to play and win?”

He grabbed her arm, yanking her to look at him. Rey flinched, hiding it by widening her eyes, but he caught the minute movement. So much work to be done, he thought tiredly. 

“You are allowed to have Beebee. But you must demonstrate to me that you understand your roles. All of them. And how to win at them.” He squeezed her arm tightly and her chin quivered. “You will report to me tonight so that I may see if you have learned your lesson.” Dropping her arm, he stalked out of the courtyard and to his study. Running an empire required much diligence and time, time that Rey seemed to want to devote to playing with horses. 

Time that she was running out of when Leia accepted his invitation. Palpatine sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he sank to his desk, ignoring the way his heart wheezed in his chest. He took a few moments to gather himself. It must be the weight of the robes, he mused. He studied the piles of missives neatly arranged for him by his secretary. He very much wanted Rey to begin to assume more administrative duties. And perhaps that was the answer, he contemplated. He kept waiting for her to be ready to take up work. Perhaps he just needed to force her to do it. 

He looked at the various letters from diplomats and client rulers. He selected a few for her to handle. Education was a proper place to start, he thought. And given her aptitude with horses, perhaps the animal trade. And perhaps, just perhaps, he would invite her to tea with himself and Pryde. If that old beast didn’t show her what it required to run an empire, very little would, he thought with satisfaction. Pleased with his decisions, Palpatine rang for a servant to prepare a pot of caf. 

* * *

On the other side of the compound, Rey stode angrily to her sets of rooms where her tutor waited. Her fingernails dug half crescents into her palms but she couldn’t care. Her anger was a storm within her and she was barely aware of servants scuttling out of her path. Her skirts were mud stained and straw stuck in her hair and she smelled of sweat and horses and she honestly did not care. If the tutors were complaining about her with that much force, then they deserved the dirty princess that she was, she  fumed. 

Rey flounced into the classroom and flopped to the floor, drawing her feet close to her. The door slid open and Rose Tico strolled in, a small smile on her face as she carried a tray of tea to Rey. She sat carefully beside the princess. 

“Nice riding,” she commented. “They said that Beebee couldn't be tamed.”

Rey snorted. “I see what you are doing, Rose, and I don’t care for it.” Rose shrugged casually and poured out two cups. A third was there for the tutor whenever they deigned to show. Rey rolled her eyes as she stood, arms lifting to stretch out fully. There was a pleasant burn in her legs from gripping Beebee without a saddle. She brushed her hair back, straw falling out, as she studied the walls where maps of the empire hung. A map of trade routes, a map of client kings, a map showing the gradual, inexorable progression of the Palpatinian regime as it ate up the land. 

The Empire had started with the city of Coruscant decades ago. Perched on an abundant seaside, the palace nestled into the mountains looking down on the city. To the north were the Parnassos mountains--glacier covered, sparsely inhabited, unable to be trespassed six months of the year. An excellent defense, her grandfather had boasted. To the east, the sea. To the south, a chain of islands, the Hapes cluster, long ago conquered. Rey had seen the Empress from there once. Hidden behind veils, glittering with jewels, kneeling before her grandfather. She had been young, her parents still alive but the image of the Empress’s grace clung to her. 

Rey knew she could never have that grace. She was too impatient, too wild, too interested in everything. Her grandfather blamed her governesses. They blamed her heritage, often declaring she was too much like her mother, a princess from the Huttese clan and their desert cities to the southeast, forced to marry her father to cement peace. 

And further west, past the ring of the rugged Dathomir steppes, was Alderaan. A jewel in the Empire. A vast fertile land with deep lakes and rivers whose blue lines Rey traced with her fingers. She had visited once, as a child, no more than ten. She had been amazed at how green it was. Sure there were forests in carefully cultivated greenhouses and parks in Coruscant. But nothing like the wildness that pervaded Alderaan. And its cousin kingdoms of Takodana and Chandrila. Now all belonging to her grandfather. 

“Oh Rose,” she sighed. “I wish I could see it all.”

“You can, you know,” Rose pointed out. “If your studies improve, he is sure to give you more duties. Visiting the empire is not unknown. And you surely will when you’re married.”

“Married!” Rey scoffed. “To whom? Another Hutt boy? Have you seen him? Sutha Hutt? He’s a foppish idiot who can’t stumble his way to the end of a sentence.” 

“Hmmm,” Rose said noncommittally. “Also your cousin. And with how poorly your parents marriage has been received, I doubt the Emperor will try it again.” 

“Anyways, I’m too young,” Rey continued airily, settling near Rose and gripping her hand. “I’m only nineteen. Most royal marriages occur a bit later.”

“You need to have babies,” Rose reminded her and Rey tried not to blanch. Rose caught her fear and squeezed her hand. “I’ll be there, no matter what.”

“You’ve always been there,” Rey agreed, reaching out to tuck back a wayward strand of hair behind Rose’s ear. “Ever since that dreaded slave trader brought you here. I will have him killed, one day, you know.” Rose’s cheeks pinked and Rey laid her head on Rose’s shoulder. 

Rose had been bought to be a kitchen servant as a young girl, merely thirteen, after the destruction of her village. But she and Rose had ran into one another--quite literally. Pleased to see a girl her own age in the palace, Rey had demanded that Rose play with her. For whatever reason, Rose had agreed and they had roamed the palace together. When the kitchen master tried to lash Rose for her disobedience, Rey had pushed her aside and taken the hit. 

From that moment on, they were inseparable. Best friends. Rey gamely trying dangerous stunts and Rose there to catch her, a wry smile on her face. But Rose was just as risky at times. Rey still remembered their adventure into the north to build a snowman before being caught in the midst of a blizzard. They had huddled into a cave for warmth, clinging to one another, before one of the stormtroopers found them. Rey had insisted on shouldering the blame, insisting that she had ordered Rose to do it. The Emperor had smirked but had taken away Rey’s privileges. Rose remained unscathed. 

“I’ve seen so little of this empire I’m supposed to rule,” Rey mused. “I don’t even know the people outside of the courtiers and advisers. And I barely know them. I’m pretty sure I caught Tarkin glowering at me from across the dinner table the other night. Put me right off my food, I tell you.”

“Yet you cleared your plate,” Rose reminded her. Rey opened her mouth to protest when the door opened and, to her surprise, Thrawn stepped in. He smiled down at them before taking a seat at his desk, his white robes crisp and neat. He still wore the blue paint his people did, despite the uniform. The emperor had granted a special dispensation but still had stuck Thrawn on tutoring duty in the last year. 

“Good afternoon, your highness. And Rose,” he said courteously. Rey beamed up at him. He was one of the few who acknowledged Rose. Her companion bobbed her head before looking away. 

“Now, today, we are going to discuss the role of punishment,” Thrawn purred in his smokey voice. Rey frowned. “Does punishment succeed? Or does it turn your subjects against you? For example, in light of your...antics, your highness, the Emperor is having the eyes of the men who saw your legs gouged out. But your own captain for allowing it to happen. Do you think that will work?

Rey leapt to her feet, outrage flooding her. “He can’t! That’s wrong! That’s...that’s!!!”

She tore out of the room, racing down the hallway, dodging a servant carrying a pile of linen, before dashing out into the training courtyard. Wails assaulted her as two men were being treated by a medic, blood streaming down their faces. Rey clutched her stomach, her chest heaving. Phasma held down another, a bloody knife in her hand. 

“No!” Rey screamed, leaping forward to shove the man away. Phasma stumbled back and Rey glared at her. “No more men shall be harmed!”

“I was ordered to do so by the Emperor,” Phasma said, her voice steel and stripped. “He expects it.”

“And I’m ordering you to stop. It was done so on my behalf. I refuse to let anyone take the punishment,” Rey ground out, lifting her chin. She wished she had changed her clothes. She wished she were elegant and powerful, instead of a fool. She met Phasma’s stare with a flat one of her own. She heard Rose’s gasp as she stumbled into the yard. 

“Now here we have an interesting lesson,” Thrawn commented, as if the classroom had moved into the courtyard. “Whose rule triumphs here? And what do you hope to gain from it?” Phasma shot him an irked glance and Rey licked her lips, her body thrummed, primed for something it seemed to understand but was beyond her ken in that moment. The men shuffled away from her, their features pale and haunted. 

“If you must take someone’s eyes, take my own,” Rey ordered. “After all, I caused the problem. Therefore, I must bear the pain.” Phasma scoffed and waved her hand tiredly. She sat down, her heavy armor clanking loudly against the stool. Rain began to splatter down, the blood on her armor turning pink as it slid to a stop on her boots. Rey sniffed and held her hand out of the blade. 

“If you won’t do it, I’ll do it myself.” Phasma looked up at her, anger glittering in her blue eyes. Lightning flashed, hiding the slopes of her cheeks, her paleness gleaming in the dark. Rey kept her features flat, stubborn.

“There is no need for this,” Phasma swore. 

“I quite agree,” Thrawn said, his boots squelching loudly in the mud. He brushed Rey’s hand aside and took the dagger. He ordered the medics to put the men out of their misery. One of them, a dark skinned man with wide eyes, stared at Rey before rushing past her. And then Thrawn turned to look at Rey.

“Now what do you think that accomplished?” he asked bemusedly before wrapping an arm around her shoulders and guiding her out of the rain. Rey shuddered and refused to look back at the shouts as the door shut behind her. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben Solo finds out to whom he is betrothed.  
> Rey isn't exactly pleased either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tip of the hat to my wonderful beta Josskuhh!!

Princess Leia Organa Solo, heir to the once great free kingdom of Alderaan, stared at the letter. A set of letters, really, she thought grimly. She shuffled one away to focus on the official missive from Grand Moff Tarkin. Outside her window, birds trilled and a sharp piney scent filled her nostrils. She enjoyed working in this part of the castle. It jutted into the forest and she had insisted on her office being here, rather than out near the lake, as her mother had before her. 

Leia rubbed her forehead and sighed. Rising and tucking the floating diaphanous cape behind her, she headed out of her office to find Han. He wasn’t difficult to locate, constantly tinkering with his beloved ship. A cutter of smooth lines and grace, the Millennium Falcon was a relic that he insisted would still do just fine out on the seas. 

“Han,” she called and he poked his head up from a gunwale. Chewbacca, his best friend, howled something from the rigging. Chewie spoke limited Basic, choosing to rely on Shyriiwook, from his native Kashyyyk, out in the Southern Seas. Leia caught a few words calling Han out for ruining his ship. The ownership of the Falcon was hotly contested between those two.

“I see you lost the Falcon again,” Leia commented, leaning a hip against a pier. Han scowled. 

“He cheats, I tell you,” he muttered. Chewie shouted something along the lines of that it wasn’t cheating if Han was a terrible player. Leia swallowed her smile but Han caught the laughter in her eyes and glared. 

“It’s like a conspiracy between you two,” he complained without heat. “You’re just lucky Ben isn’t here.”

“He wouldn’t side with you anyways,” Leia pointed out with a chuckled, offering her hand as Han clambered down the gangway. He took it, pressing a hard kiss to her palm, before pulling her into his side. Leia guided him toward a garden, teaming with roses, daisies, jasmine and lilies. Han threaded his fingers through hers as he took a seat on a bench beside a pond. Its water glittered in the bright sun, dragonflies buzzing from flower to flower. It was a pleasant place for an unpleasant talk.

“I have received a missive from Tarkin,” she began hesitantly. Han’s face immediately darkened, his gaze immediately tracking north. Leia squeezed his hand. She knew he was thinking about the village they had lost, destroyed by Tarkin, as part of the Empire’s campaign to acquire everything--every acre of land, every village, every man, woman or child, swearing fealty, all to appease Sheev’s insatiable appetite. The lands they had salted were still not completely clear for use, the dark soil a scar in the verdant fields. 

“He is insisting that we come to Coruscant. As soon as we can. And bring Ben,” she added, licking her lips. “He implies that he knows what Luke is up to.”

“And we are to answer to this?” Han demanded. “Is this just a flimsy excuse to order our execution? That man has had it in for us since you left that scar on his face.” Leia shook her head, her breath hiccuping, fear seized her words. Han frowned and reached for the letter. Her hand jerked back, afraid of his reaction if he read the coded threat. 

“He says the Emperor wants us to renew the vow that...Vader made.” She still could not think of him as her father. Even after the horrible truth had come out. “By having his granddaughter marry Ben.” Han shot to his feet, his fervent “no” increased in pitch as he paced in front of her. Tears pricked behind her eyes as Leia closed them. Her darling son. Another victim on the pyre. 

“A Palpatine brat, I bet,” Han swore and Leia chuckled at that. “Did Tarkin say this is in so many words?”

“No. Tarkin said we are invited to discuss new trade regulations. And that Ben’s presence was required. It was our spy in Coruscant who told me what was really happening.” Han stopped pacing and ran a hand through his hair. It was shorter now, the grey melting into a soft white that Leia still found appealing. 

“Apparently, the princess was displeased at being married as well,” Leia said, running her fingers over the cool water. A fat goldfish swam toward her, pecking at them, before gliding away. She sighed, unsure of what she was feeling. She longed for Ben and her brother. They were traipsing in the woods together, along the Dathomir Alderaan border, looking for some sort of sacred Jedi text. They were due back within the week. But Leia knew she needed to send a runner to find them, to urge them home earlier if only by a day or two.

“She sounds like a spoiled brat,” Han muttered. “It would be a privilege to marry our son.” Leia snorted.

“First its a problem that they want him to marry her and now its a problem that she doesn’t want to,” Leia pointed out, humor weaving through her words. “I don’t think it’s him that is the problem. It’s the marriage itself. Apparently, she has dreams. She wants to explore. She has been giving more duties, as of late, and struggles with them. She isn’t...inclined to be cruel the way Sheev is.” 

“She probably is unaware of her grandfather’s true nature,” Han muttered and Leia nodded. Like Leia, the princess had most likely grown up shielded from the truth, surrounded by fine fabrics, pretty trinkets, and lessons from boring tutors uninterested in the lives of the people the policies affected. Breha, her mother, had been a different ruler, bringing Leia into her council room once she became ten and Leia had learned quickly. And when the Empire came, those lessons had become faint in her mind. Until the treaty was sealed and the crown was settled on her head. 

“Ben won’t like this,” Han noted and Leia nodded.

“We can’t tell him the true reason.”

“He’ll be furious when he finds out the truth.” There was nothing more to say. It was all true, both sides of it. This was a hidden truth in politics. There were dimensions of truth on all sides and the winners often selected which sounded best or which cast them in the best light or which appease their wealthy backers. It was exhausting, she thought, before rising to her feet. Han crushed her to his chest, holding her tight, planting a kiss on top of her head. 

“I’ll tell Threepio to order the Alderaan house get ready,” he said reluctantly and Leia buried her face in his chest. He would do it, she thought. He would bear this terrible thing. Without grace, most likely. But he would shoulder it for her. For Ben. 

“And send Dameron to fetch Ben and Luke. He’s the fastest. And he won’t blab,” Han added thoughtfully. Leia chuckled. She lifted her face and he kissed her tenderly. It was something they had learned together, she thought, as his thumb brushed her jaw. She clung to him, knowing that she would need this moment of peace. Because what came next would be akin to war. 

* * *

Rey settled into a seat, her grandfather peering at her over his spectacles. A newfangled invention that he finally gave into, she thought he looked far more kindly with the gold wrapped pieces of glass. She gave a demure nod toward General Pryde and General Brendol Hux. The tea service was brought in by a servant and poured by Rey.

“I see deportment lessons stuck,” Pryde commented icily and Rey favored him with a forced smile. Pryde took his tea and sniffed it, remarking that he preferred more sugar. 

“I was afraid that any more and your natural sweetness would be overcome,” Rey said with a saccharine smile. Brendol Hux snorted before composing his face as Rey handed over the sugar dish. Her grandfather patted her hand. 

“That’s good, good. Make them remember who you are,” he complimented before turning to his notes. The conversation meandered over a treaty for wheat with the Hapes Islands and a problem with bushfires in Kashyyyk. Rey politely listened, her eyes flickering between all the men occasionally. 

“Why not send Admiral Thrawn?” she asked when the discussion of a potential uprising on Lothal. Pryde snorted.

“Doesn’t he have better things to do? Taking care of a young child?” Pryde sneered and Rey balked. She wasn’t sure why Thrawn was considered demoted. From her understanding, being her tutor was considered an honor.

She pressed back her ire to reply: “Don’t you use the correct tool for the correct job? You would never use a man to thresh wheat when a wheat processor exists?”

“Unless you mean to punish the man,” Palpatine said lightly and Rey jerked. She stared at her grandfather, his face waxier than usual, red circles under his eyes. She frowned as he patted her hand. 

“It is not a poor thought. Perhaps Daala would be better though. Or Brendol. I would prefer Thrawn to remain here.” Rey saw Brendol’s eyebrow twitched. She licked her lips and lifted her cup just as the door slid open and Armitage Hux stepped in, a stack of papers in his hands. She sighed. The amount of letters daily, honestly. 

He came and kneeled next to her, his eyes bright.

“Your highness,” he whispered as Pryde and his father began to argue about the best way to handle Lothal. “I have some responses for you in regards to allowing women into the Imperial academy. Do you want them here or in your office?”

“My office, please,” she murmured, meeting his smile with one of her own. His hand rested on her shoulder for a moment longer than appropriate. He then rose to collect the Emperor’s cup and poured another cup of tea for him. Rey noticed that he turned away to fix the tea and studied her grandfather. Was he ill? 

“That is all,” Palpatine wheezed as he took the cup. “Brendol, you will go to Lothal. Pryde, you will coordinate with him and Tarkin. Everyone leave us. I must speak with Rey.” The men gathered their things, Rey watching Brendol closely. Her grandfather took a long draw of the tea before turning to her.

“I have engaged a new tutor for you,” he began. “One who will prepare you for marriage.”

“One of your concubines?” Rey wrinkled her nose in distaste. She had been out to the fields during foal laying season. She understood coupling . She just couldn’t imagine it with the beast of a man like Ben Solo. Long-limbed, long face, ears poking from beneath a curtain of black hair. The description provided by Phasma had not been very...alluring. 

Neither had an arranged marriage if Rey were to be quite frank with herself. She didn’t want to be married to someone she met once and could only remember as a wraith in the corner of her mind. She wanted to fall in love, to feel the ache in her heart, to understand what a kiss truly meant. She licked her lips and looked at her hands, unsure of how to broker the conversation with Palpatine. 

“Ciena Ree will train you in court etiquette. She was never one of my concubines,” Palpatine informed her. “She was one of my greatest captains until she fell in battle. You may have seen her in court from time to time. She understands quite well the roles you will be expected to play. She will prepare you for the engagement ceremony and will ensure your trousseau is prepared.” 

“I don’t want to marry Ben Solo.” She felt her grandfather’s gaze, heavy and disapproving, fall on her. She bit her lip and tried again: “I don’t even know him.”

“Your parents barely knew one another before they were married,” he said quietly, but his voice rolled with thunder. “And they were quite happy. This is the way.” 

“It’s not the way for a peasant,” Rey muttered and her grandfather laughed sharply.

“You live too much in your head and in novels. It’s much much worse for them. Daughters sold for money. Sons indentured. It is much the same. But much smellier. You’ve never known hunger, Reynessa.” He glared at her, as if it were her fault that she had been born royalty. Shame spiked through her. Perhaps she had read too many novels. She hung her head. He waved her away tiredly, informing her that her lessons with Ciena would begin tomorrow morning. 

Still, as she left the room to meet Armitage, Rey’s hands twisted together. It wasn’t wrong to long for love, she thought. Then Armitage appeared out of nowhere, offering her his arm, which she took, oblivious to the dark gleam in his eyes. 

* * *

“I’m not marrying that brat,” Ben declared. Leia shook her head, wishing she could scream, but the royal caravan was in procession now. The horses plodded through the steppes to Dathomir. Han gave a dry chuckle beside her before his forehead wrinkled. Ben rummaged through his bag before tossing a bottle at Han.

“Try this. It should help ease the ache in your leg,” he said and Han grunted in relief. 

“Old war wounds, kid. Let’s hope you never get them,” Han muttered as Ben ducked out of the carriage to give them some privacy. Leia sighed. He patted her hand and told her to go after him. Leia poked her head out of the carriage and whistled for Poe. 

Poe Dameron, commander of the Alderaan protection forces, trotted toward her on a black stallion, the horse’s head as high as Dameron’s. It was a beautiful beast and Poe guided him beautifully and easily alongside the family carriage. 

“Let’s take a rest,” she suggested but Poe reminded her that water was a few miles ahead. Nodding her consent, Leia ducked back inside. Poe’s eyes tracked Ben’s lanky form falling back, his shoulders hunched, and gave a slight squeeze of this thighs for his horse to slow down. 

“You sulking again, Solo?” Dameron called and Ben stuck his finger up at him. A couple of soldiers around them chuckled. Dameron was only a few years older than Ben and had often been his childhood companion. What had started out a begrudging relationship developed into a true friendship. Poe could see that Ben was dejected, feet kicking at rocks, his chin jutting forward.

“She’s not that ugly, I heard,” Poe offered and Ben snorted.

“It’s not that. I know I’m no prize in that department. I still remember when she visited a dozen years ago. A snotty little brat who threw a fit until her grandfather gave her what she wanted.” Poe frowned. He remembered the Emperor’s visit to commemorate a treaty but he couldn’t remember a little girl there. He had just received an officer’s commission and had been busy with patrols. 

“Well, she was a kid,” he offered and Ben blew out his breath. 

“It’s the barbarity of it all. To be traded like horseflesh to keep this kingdom safe. I know it’s the right thing to do and I’m willing to do it for Alderaan but...but…” Ben exhaled gustily aand scrubbed his hands through his hair. Dust clung to his black boots, his dark pants turning yellow from the clay like soil that was sticking to the horses hooves. Flecks of it shone in Ben’s dark hair like stars. Poe shook his head. He looked forward to the river up ahead and not just for water. He was feeling weighed down from the dirt coating him and his horse. 

“Sorry about Beebee, by the way,” Ben said offhandedly and Poe shrugged, batting at the dirt in his stallion’s mane. “Do we know what happened?”

“Some traders broke in, stole a bunch of horses. We caught some of them. I heard some were seen racing toward Chandrila.”

“Maybe Beebee will be found. “

“Maybe Beebee will bite whoever finds him because he’s got a nasty temper,” Poe said. The caravan had begun to roll to a stop and he pulled on his horse’s reins gently to bring them to a stop. He slid off and faced Ben.

“Your mother doesn’t want this either, you know?” There was a lot there unsaid. Ben’s lips pressed together and he looked over Poe’s shoulder to the long carriage from where his mother alighted, helping Han limp out. He rubbed his face, making a sound as dirt got into his mouth before patting Poe on the shoulder before going to help his mother. 

Later that night, Ben separated himself from the group. The fringe edges of the forest were a good cover, Poe had declared, and they had set up camp. Ben threaded through the soldiers until he found a grassy clearing . He looked down the golden rolling hills of Dathomir down into the valleys below. Guilt dug into him like burrs. He didn’t mean to be petulant or ungrateful. It was his honor and his joy to help his people.

But marriage to a Palpatine? After everything they had done to him and his family? Hatred burned in him and he swallowed hard as he sank to the ground, crossing his legs. His uncle had told him it was key to center himself. 

“Never let the hate control you,” Luke counseled. Ben took it to mean that he should never show that particular emotion in front of the Emperor, and he agreed it was wise if he wanted to live. Luke probably meant it another way. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. The mossy smell of overturned dirt, the sweat from the horses, the grassy smoke from the fire filled his lungs. He exhaled. 

Peace settled around him, comforting and clean. After focusing on his breathing for a few more moments, Ben rose to his feet, his saber sliding out of its sheath. He began with Shii-cho, the blade loose in his hand, the sword whistling as it sliced through the air as he brought it down. He arced up, as if aiming for a head before pulling back, the blade flat before him. He thrust forward, power vibrating along his arm and twirled, saber flashing in the light. 

Ben stopped, breath burning his throat, and he swiped his hair back. He stared at the setting sun, sky striped with purple, a deepening blue sinking the land into the dark, and promised himself that he would give nothing to this princess. His heart belonged to Alderaan and the Jedi. 

“You always were a graceful swordsman,” his mother’s voice cut into his reprieve. Ben twisted to see Leia behind him, a pale cloak wrapped around her shoulders. He blushed and slipped his sword back into its sheath, clipping it to his belt. 

“I’ve had a good teacher,” he mumbled, ears turning red. Leia strode up to him, slipping her arm through his, and laying her head on his arm. She felt so frail next to him and he began to scan the horizon for any potential hazards.

“Let’s get you back to camp,” he murmured and she shook her head.

“You don’t have to marry her if you don’t want to. There are other choices.”

“Not if we want to keep Alderaan safe,” Ben said roughly. Leia stroked his cheek, frowning at the bruise on his jaw. 

“The purpose of diplomacy is to take a difficult position and turn it to your advantage,” Leia replied and Ben’s mouth twisted. Diplomacy was never really his strong suit if he were being honest. Growing up, he had skipped out on one too many lessons to go splashing in the lake with Poe and the other children in the palace. 

“When I agreed to take the crown, I swore an oath to place Alderaan first,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “It means everything to me. You know it.” She hugged his arm and allowed him to guide her back to camp. He stared resolutely ahead, building a wall around his heart. He knew he would have to kiss this princess, flatter her, whisper blandishments. If she were still the snotty brat he met years ago, he’d probably need to offer her sweetmeats and give in to her every desire. But it meant nothing compared to the weight of the crown he wore. To the people he swore to protect. 

The price of his body for his people didn’t seem too heavy to pay. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Machinations brew in the palace  
> Rey is issued a challenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tip o the hat to the inestimable Josskuhh for her wonderful beta'ing work.

Rey hurried to her set of rooms, her claret red skirt billowing behind her. Oh how she loathed the heavy fabrics they placed on her. Rose had been called away in the morning with another dresser filling in the role, despite Rey’s protests that she could handle herself. Rey had fruitlessly argued with the dresser that summer should entail lighter fabrics, pastel colors, not these heavy voluminous costumes that dragged her. 

“You’re always in a rush,” her dresser had said crossly. “This ought to slow you down.” Rey lifted her skirts as she ran, slippered feet moving quietly over the rugs until she arrived at her bedroom. She dashed in, grasping at her ties on her gown, when she spied Rose sitting by the window. 

“Rose, you wouldn’t believe the meeting I had with Armitage today. Women are fit for the army but not the philosophical sciences? What a joke!” Rey seethed. She stripped out of the bloody skirts, kicked them away, and crossed the room in her kirtle. She continued complaining about the political dance she was having to do to allow them to consider women as more than just soldiers but a sob broke her rant. Rey paused. She looked at Rose curled in a chair as she hastily rubbed at her cheeks. 

Rey kneeled next to her, grasping Rose’s hand. “My darling, what is it?” She pressed her cheek next to Rose’s sticky one, feeling the slickness and she sighed. Rose shuddered, took a hiccuping sigh. She shook her head as Rey gripped her tightly. 

“We promised no secrets, remember? Who is it? I shall raze the whole world for you,” she whispered and Rose groaned. 

“No need for dramatics,” she muttered. “You always over do everything.”

“It must be criticize Rey day as the old dresser had a comment too.” Her tone was light, almost mocking and Rose snorted. Rey found a handkerchief, dabbed at Rose’s cheeks, her friend’s eyes closing in relief as she sagged in her arms. Rey snuggled closer, wrapping her arms around her and brushing back the hair that had fallen out of Rose’s neat bun. 

“I just found out that we start lessons with Cienna today,” Rose began, thready and sad. 

“I think Ciena will not force you to sit outside like that dreadful Mitaka,” Rey argued. Rose shook her head and held up her hand.

“It’s not that. It’s the punishment. Don’t you see, Rey?” she looked up at her, eyes shimmering with tears, and Rey felt something unlock within her. Something she tried to ignore, something slithering close to the truth. She licked her lips and shoved it away. 

“Ciena is preparing you for marriage. It’s a punishment for her.”

“Why is being my teacher always a punishment?” Rey griped lightly and Rose snorted. 

“Have you met yourself?” she retorted. “You try to divert the lesson, you rarely turn in the homework. And you argue. _ All _ the time. The only one you listen to is Thrawn and I’m sure he finds it amusing.”

Rey plucked at the fine linen of her kirtle. “Well I like his diversions,” she mused. “A thorough explanation of warfare is useful.” Rose rolled her eyes and slapped Rey’s shoulder. A giggle burst out before trailing off into a sob. Rose swiped the handkerchief and ran it under her eyes sopping up the tears. 

“This is a punishment for her. She was in love. But her love chose to rebel against your grandfather for how he destroyed Jelucan with strip mining. And so on the night of her wedding, the Empire came to take him away. He is a slave now.” Rose paused. Rey gave a shuddering breath. She refused to believe it. She refused to see her grandfather as cruel.

“It wasn’t him,” she whispered. “It couldn’t have been. Tarkin or Hux, maybe.” Rose squeezed her hand. Rey drew herself out of the misery dragging her down, a gaping maw in her soul that threatened to swallow her whole, and shoved it away. Rose needed her attention. She needed to be there for Rose, she told herself, as considered her best friend’s tears. 

“And this bothers you, her pain.” Rose sniffed and Rey swallowed, a loud clicking noise. “Then we shall endeavor to make this as painless as possible for her.” Rose chuckled. 

“Yeah we’ll see.” She stood up, yanking Rey with her. Her skin was still blotchy from tears and Rey grabbed a calming cream to smooth her face. The repetitive motion of massaging circles into Rose’s skin calmed them both and Rey used it to distract herself from the increasingly insistent notion that she wasn’t being told about her grandfather’s empire. About how it was being run and the men who were running it. 

As Rey contemplated the future--What were these men doing? What other kinds of horrors were they hiding? Why this marriage now? --she watched the flurry of servants move across the courtyard below. She spied Brendol Hux moving quickly, his back stiff, his lips curling, and wondered just what he was up to. 

  
  


Brendol Hux hated that Tarkin still treated him like a child. He bit back a snarl as he strode down the hallway, refusing to check around corners anymore. He found Tarkin in dim nook of the library, dusty and rarely used. The princess used to haunt these rooms once, but not anymore. He wondered what kept her away until he saw Tarkin at a desk, clearly in his element. 

Brendol would have avoided it too, if he knew the greying man were haunting it. 

“Well? What do you want?” he snapped but Tarkin didn’t look up from his correspondence. He held up one bony finger before dipping his pen into the inkpot to finish his sentence. Brendol’s lip curled and his leg jittered. He needed to move. 

“It has come to my attention, Brendol, that whatever is happening in Lothal has everything to do with our spice trade.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“What I mean is, you have lost two ships full of cargo. Each of those ships is listed as burnt down by the Lothal rebels. So, what this tells me is that you’ve lost control of the governor there.” His voice ghosted across the room like leaves across the walkway, his sunken eye staring unwaveringly at Brendol. He forced himself to remain still. 

“Governor Pryce has ideas about what cut of the profit she thinks she is due for allowing us to smuggle spice out of Lothal. She will stir up rebellion.”

“Do you think that bringing this to the Emperor’s attention to wise? Daala will destroy the whole island to save it.”

Brendol licked his lips. “I was planning on going with her.” Tarkin leaned back in his seat and studied him, spindly fingers interlaced across his lap. His hollowed out cheeks threatened to swallow the dim light. His uniform was neat, lapels still sharp, his medals gleaming in the flickering candle light. 

“I suppose that is the best idea,” Tarkin finally said. “Let us see if you are able to salvage the mess you made.”

“Pryce will learn not to go against us,” Brendol vowed. “Palpatine won’t last forever and the princess is nothing more than a wife in waiting. She must listen to those in power now.” His unexpected vehemence startled them both and Tarkin tilted his head. 

“Do you think Armitage’s flirtations will sway her then?” Brendol’s eyes widened. Tarkin chuckled, a strangely rich and rolling sound from such a severe man. “Oh, yes, I am quite aware of what he is doing. His little niceties. His lingering touches. His obsequiousness.” He sneered the last few words and Brendon bristled. It was a long game his son was playing and judging by the blush he last saw on Rey’s face, she wasn’t unaffected. Armitage was not unfortunate to look at either. Their various plans had been sketched out, refined over the years, and this was just one other route to the throne. 

“She’s just a young woman. She’s not used to flattery. Palpatine keeps her locked away.” Tarkin made a dismissive noise and Brendol tried not to scowl. He knew that Tarkin found the plan weak. After all, her intended was arriving in a few weeks. 

But there was no reason why the Solos should arrive alive. Brendol bowed as he left and thought about the little gift he had planned for Tarkin. He always wanted Leia’s head on a platter and Hux thought it would be a perfect tribute for the man who had taught him. 

* * *

Ciena Ree was an elegant, willowy woman. Her time in the Imperial Academy as a soldier was apparent in her ramrod straight posture, neat bun, and smartly pressed robes. Her skirts were slim and Rey stared at the way they moved until she realized they were wide legged trousers draped in a way to appear as a gown unless Ciena moved in a certain way. But if she kept her movements dainty it wasn’t noticeable, especially, when one wore the long robes of an Imperial tutor.

“Where did you get those trousers?” Rey demanded, interrupting Ciena’s lecture about the official steps in a future son in law’s request for hand in marriage after the marriage broker’s approval. Rey wasn’t actually interested in the steps of her marriage. She assumed that this potential marriage to Ben Solo was a threat without being carried through. It made no sense.

“Your highness,” Ciena said formally, folding her hands in front of her. “Do you want to be unprepared on the day of your wedding? Do you want to look foolish?” Rose gasped at the frank language. It was unusual to be so forthright with a Palpatine. Rey shrugged artlessly and Rose batted at her. Ciena, unlike Rey’s deportment tutor, said nothing, merely raising a brow. 

“I don’t think it will really happen,” Rey replied matter of factly. “There’s no benefit in me marrying into Alderaan. Marriage must have a political benefit. We already own it.”

Ciena’s jaw trembled and she appeared to be trying to hide a smile. “Alderaan has resisted Coruscant’s rule. Although they are part of the Empire, they have not adapted all of our laws. And their army and navy recruitment numbers are some of the lowest in the Empire. Leia Organa Solo often sends gifts that are toxic in nature. Such as pufferfish last year.”

“Alderaan is a house in need of taming. Forcing Ben Solo to marry you humiliates them.” Rey bristled at the language but Ciena held up a hand. Contrary to the rumors of Rey’s intractability, the princess kept her mouth shut and listened. “It shows the world that they need tighter reins. It also forces him to constantly choose between Alderaan and the Empire.”

“Like in trade,” Rey hazarded and Ciena nodded once, curtly. It was a gesture that Rey had seen in the guards and in Armitage. It was something the Academy taught, she presumed. Minimal praise. Minimal movements. Conserve energy.

“Or let’s say a man is convicted of protesting the Empire’s rule and he is from Alderaan. How will the Consort act? How will you act?” Rey chewed her lip, brow knitting together as she considered the scenario. For her, it would simply be a matter of ensuring the safety of her subjects. But for Ben, there would be repercussions. Which could harm her subjects. But then she wondered if they would be their subjects. She wasn’t sure what a Consort did, given that her parents never ascended to the throne and there had been no Empresses. Any role for Ben would be carved out by them.

Perhaps that is the best, Rey thought. Perhaps giving him a hand in crafting what his role would like would assuage any ill will he had. She wouldn’t mind giving up some of her power to appease him. A happy spouse would mean that she could turn her focus to something more important and pressing. 

“The princess seems uninterested in the five tasks the prince must complete in order to win her hand,” Ciena remarked dryly, breaking Rey’s reverie. Rey gazed up at her and smiled crookedly. Rose had been taking neat notes on the subject. 

“I’m sorry. I was just weighing my options as it came to assigning Ben roles in the kingdom.”

“Oh, Ben already?” Rose teased and Rey smacked her arm lightly. Rose stuck her tongue at her and the two girls giggled, a light and airy sound that caused a short but pained smile on Ciena’s face. Rey licked her lips as she debated asking Ciena about Thane. 

“I believe the princess needs a more practical assignment,” Ciena said abruptly. Rey cocked her head. The other woman smiled thinly. “You seem actually interested in running this kingdom, contrary to the rumors.” Rey frowned. “Have you been outside its walls?”

“Only in a litter. Or official procession,” Rey replied as Rose began to shake her head, muttering about what a bad idea it was. Ciena smirked. 

“There is a park two levels down, Ahsoka Tano memorial garden. If you can make it there, I’ll teach you the secret of these trousers. And I may let you try out a weapon. I heard you were pestering Phasma for lessons.”

“Can you do this?” Rose asked before turning to Rey and tugging on her sleeve. “Can she do this?” Rey shrugged, holding up her hands. She wasn’t exactly sure what the tutors were and were not allowed to do aside from kicking Rose out of the room. Rey had been explicitly clear that she considered Rose her confidant and that she deserved the lessons too. She narrowed her eyes as she studied Ciena, weighing her options. Was this a trap? But the lure of being outside, of perhaps flouting decorum the way Ciena did was too much for Rey to resist.

“Deal,” Rey said, noticing how Ciena tucked away a pleased expression before it rippled across her face. But she couldn’t let Rose go. If it indeed were a trap, Rey would bear the consequences. Rising up, Rey agreed on two hours to get to the park. Rose grumbled as she followed Rey to her quarters. 

Rey plunged into the closet, rifling through the clothes, biting back a giggle. Feeling naughty was nothing new, she told herself. Besides, how could she be a ruler if she didn’t know what was outside the damned palace walls? She pulled out the clothing she was seeking and poked her head out to survey the hallway. No one was coming. Rose saw what was in Rey’s hands and shook her head.

“This is a dangerous idea! We don’t know Ciena that well,” Rose pointed out and Rey rolled her eyes.

“Weren’t you just crying about her history an hour ago? Besides, you’re not coming.” Rose drew back, clearly affronted, but Rey explained her reasoning as she shimmied out of her gown. Her stockings were still a fine silk but she pulled on a coarse wool sock over it before dropping the heavier beige gown. She studied herself in the mirror as she took her hair out of their elaborate knots. Rose sighed, stood up, and pushed Rey into a seat. 

“They’ll ask me where you are,” Rose pointed out with her unfailing common sense as she pulled out the pins in Rey’s hair. “An unmarried Coruscant girl would wear her hair like this.” ” She deftly twisted Rey’s hair into three small buns in a line down her skull. Rey grinned cheekily up at her as she cleaned off any rouge from this morning's session with her advisors. Ever since her grandfather had handed on several duties to her, Rey’s morning were often spent in meetings, her afternoons were devoted to lessons and evenings with the court. It was dull, uninspiring, and overwhelming. 

Rey took in her new appearance. The buns were sweet and charming, she thought. The beige gown was worn with a half leather corset, cream and sand colored skirts falling to her feet which she slid into simple brown boots. Rose sighed and handed her the standard white wool cloak that most servants wore when they went out. 

“Come with me. I’ll at least make sure you make it out of the palace,” she muttered. Rey looped her arm through a basket and trooped after her. The servants ignored them and the guards waved them through with a scant glance. Rey frowned, looking over her shoulder, muttering under her breath about the extreme lack of protocol. Rose groaned and tugged her down toward the marketplace. She palmed some coins into Rey’s pocket, complaining about silly royalty before pointing her in the direction of the Tano park.

Rey kissed Rose’s cheek. “I’ll bring back something delicious.”

Rose’s eyebrows lifted. “We’ll see if you make it to the park before the guards bring you back.” Sticking her tongue out at her friend. Rey strode into the marketplace that sat outside the palace’s gates. It was a riot of color bright strips of cloth fluttered in the breeze and noise. A tall man with a thick beard hawked wines and beer, wiping the sweat off his brow. A woman haggled with a man over the outrageous price of half baked pastries and the rising cost of eggs. Rey listened in as she berated him for his declining products but increasing prices and she made a note to ask Armitage about it. 

But then she shook her head. She was here to enjoy! She wanted to see and to explore. This was her kingdom and it wasn’t every day that she was allowed out without supervision. Grinning, Rey raced into the crowd. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, no Ben! 
> 
> But soon! (And their meeting soon!!!)   
> Josskuhh has already beta'd chapter 4 (wow!!!) so we should get our meeting this weekend :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Ben  
> ahem  
> Kira and Kylo meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Josskuhh for beta'ing! I did some edits without her keen eye so its all on me.

Rey plunged down the street, biting back a gasp as the crowd inexorably dragged her down the winding roads that lead to the lower levels. Coruscant was a valley bordering an ocean, mountains ringing every side. The city had laid itself out in every smaller rings so that it looked like an oddly squashed layer cake. The palace itself stood at the very top, built into the mountains as a form of protection. Subjects moved through the layers through a series of gates scattered along each level. The second level was home to parks and wealthy homes, with a direct link to the seaport that gave Coruscant its reputation as a trading capital. 

Despite Rose’s protests, Rey suspected she would ultimately be safe in the first two levels. Any merchants and traders on the first level were there by a royal decree. The rest of the level was dedicated to the homes of the royal advisors, lush gardens, and conservatories. Rey wound her way through the crowd, gaping at the ornate architecture, her stomach rumbling at the rich and spicy smell of meat roasting on a spit. The coins Rose palmed off, hung heavy in her pocket, tempting her to order a slice. But she shook her head, instead reaching into the pocket for the apple she had nabbed on her way out, Rey pressed on, slipping into the flow of the crowd heading toward the gate. 

She noticed the Imperial guards at the gate idly watching the crowd, the subjects offering up their wares as evidence of their business in the level. Rey spied Brendol Hux riding into the level, his head lifted high, his nose perpetually wrinkled as if something always smelled bad. The guards waved him through and she pulled the hood tight around her. There was a shout and she looked to see two men arguing, one shoving the other right into the path of Brendol. The horse reared, his loud neigh pierced the air. Brendol pulled out his crop and slapped the man, 

“You idiot!” he snarled. “Guards! Lock this man up for attempting to harm an Imperial adviser!” Rey’s mouth opened but then clicked shut, righteous anger surging through her. She longed to dart out and stop this. Who did Brendol think he was? She fumed. The men were clearly brawling and it got a bit out of hand. She gasped as the guards jerkily picked up the man who was shouting and struggling before slamming him to the ground.

“Silence!” the guard roared before kicking him. Rey cried out. She felt a strong hand clamp on her arm. She looked over to see a wizened woman holding her arm,shaking her head, and lifting a single finger to her lips. She prodded Rey forward.

“Don’t look,” she whispered and Rey bit back a growl, her nails digging into her palms. The woman nodded at the guard who barely looked at them as they hurried through, she dragged Rey after her then yanked her to the side.

“Hey!” Rey exclaimed, jerking her arm back. She rubbed it and stared at the tiny, wrinkled woman whose size belied her strength. Her shrewd eyes appeared enormous behind a large pair of glasses and the woman seemed to wear temple robes but Rey was unsure of the affiliation. 

“You don’t show such dismay in front of the guards, palace girl,” the woman chided. “It’s a straight ticket to the prisons.”

“But that’s illegal,” Rey protested, sure that dissent was codified in the laws. She made another mental note to check with Armitage or at least venture into the library itself. Perhaps when Tarkin was away. The man’s ghoulish presence seemed to follow her around what once had been a comforting space. 

“Are you new here?” the woman demanded and Rey gave a half shrug. It was sort of true. The woman sighed and pinched her nose. “My name is Maz, new girl. You seem like a bright sort. Avoid the guards. Keep your head down and you’ll be fine. If you run into trouble, come find me on the fourth level. Maz’s cantina.” She patted Rey’s face, her eyes blinking twice rapidly. 

“I’m Kira?” Rey replied, firming up her voice. She wondered why she gave her mother’s name but Rey seemed too obvious. Maz lifted a brow at the uncertainty but gave a curt nod. 

“Be careful, Kira. Your heart does you well. Where I have seen such hearts before, goodness follows.” With that obscure pronouncement and another pat on Rey’s check, the tiny woman melted into the crowd before Rey could properly stammer her thanks. A part of her, the part she begun to recognize as her wise self, told her that his woman saved her life. She wasn’t sure how long she’d lounge in the palace prisons as a princess imposter. Or, if Brendol had found out, how many guards would be diverted to trailing her around the palace. 

Shaking her head, Rey joined the crowd. The second level had wide avenues, trees in full bloom in the late spring warmth, her feet crushing the petals that had fallen on the road. Ahsoka Tano park was at the northern edge of the level, supposedly devoted to rare orchids. Rey strolled along the road, wishing she could toss back her hood to let the sun rest on her face.

As she turned the corner to the park, there was a large crowd gathered around a bucking horse, their curses drowning out the horse’s sharp cries. Rey frowned as a hostler darted forward and tried to grasp the dangling lead. The large dark brown horse twisted away and kicked out, his feet going high in the rear. Rey edged nearer. Sweat flecked his flanks and his chest was heaving. He was exhausted, the whites of his eyes showing, and his terror skittered along Rey’s flesh. Her heart ached for the frightened horse. 

She shivered and pushed some of the men aside just as a large man snatched the lead, pulled the horse down, and swung up on his back. Rey screeched just as loudly as the horse. The horse shook underneath him and began to pull against the lead, its head snapping back to bite at the man’s hands. The man’s grip began to slip and without thinking, Rey plunged into the crowd, moving in front of the horse. She dropped into a low stance, making her body large, and pulled out an apple from her pocket.

“Hey boy, here boy,” she clucked softly but the horse sneered at her. She glared at the man. “Get back! There’s too many of you!” A dark curly haired man snarled at her in kind Rey returned his insult with a rude gesture. His eyes widened. 

“I had no idea they grew girls like this out here,” he drawled in a strange clipped accent. Rey tried not to roll her eyes as she waved the apple in front of the horse in smooth, slow motions, murmuring nonsense at him. She sang her favorite lullaby as a child and his hooves began to stamp the ground less. The crowd fell silent, watching her work, their stares like hot needles on her back. 

Rey sidled closer, the apple up as a gift. The horse blew on it, his ears pricking forward, his interest obvious as his lips began to move around it. She tentatively began to rub circles on his neck, the horse giving a nervous whinny. 

“It’s alright, sweetie,” Rey cooed. The man slid off the horse and quickly walked to the side so that the horse could see him. The horse nickered and crunched on the apple. Rey let the lead swing in the air beside her. Grabbing it now would be reckless and stupid. She continued to sing as she patted the horse, her hands moving along the hot flesh until she found the problem. A burr half stuff on the blanket. Any weight or movement and it scratched the horse’s belly. She worked it loose and watched the tall man offer a carrot to the horse, who took it greedily.

“He needs a good walking and a bath,” Rey ordered and a man peeled off. She watched the tall man move next to her and she handed him the burr before returning to pat the horse’s large white blaze on his forehead. He was a beautiful specimen, a strong stallion built for long distances, his forelocks with white sleeves, a dark red running underneath his brown coat. 

“That’s your culprit. Not quite digging into his sides, but close enough.” The man hummed and jerked his chin toward her. 

“You work with horses? At the palace?” She frowned at him and he pointed at her cloak. “I had heard that people who work in the palace wore white in the city.” He also had the same strange accent the other man, but his voice was low and soothing. He had a long face with a strong nose, stubble dark along his jaw and pillowy lips that sent a strange thrill along her spine. She noticed a bright bruise on his chin and a bandage around his bicep, as if he had recently been injured. 

“Yes,” Rey lied, turning back to the horse, trying to avoid his intense gaze. She glanced up at the sky and figured her two hours were nearly up. She gave the man a tight lipped smile. “But unfortunately, I must go now. I have an errand to run.” 

“Oh, well, thank you for your help,” the man said gracefully, giving a slight bow. Not knowing what to do, Rey dropped into a hesitant curtsey before turning and rushing away, her cheeks stained hot. Her stomach was heaving and her palms sweaty. She peeked over her shoulder, the man watched her, as she hovered on the edge of the park, her hand on a pillar. 

Rey heard the sharp strike of metal on stone. A loud scream ripped through the air. A snap and crunch followed by a blood curdling cry. She turned to see the horse racing toward her. She pressed against the hard pillar with nowhere to run she squeezed her eyes closed, preparing for the worse. At the last moment, as she swore she could feel the hot breath on her face, an arm snaked around her waist and lifted her. She was draped over a back and she opened her eyes to see horse kicking the air where she stood before he raced off, men chasing after him. 

And then she noticed the curved backside of the person holding her and she stared. She was sure her face was scarlet as she was placed on her feet, her hands flying up to cover her face. 

“I apologize for grabbing you like that,” the man explained. “I knew I only had a second to get you away from that beast.” Rey swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, and dropped her hands, grasping her skirt. She licked her lips and nodded. 

“Thank you,” she got out, appalled at the breathiness in her voice. “That was certainly quick thinking. You are a fast runner.”

“Lots of running in the mountains. You build up the lungs for it.” His smile was quick, half shy, the tips of his ears turning red. Rey grinned. 

“Ah, that explains the accent then.” 

“You got me,” he replied easily. “Found out by my odd pronunciation. I guess I should work on sounding more like you.” It was a gambit, an easy flirt.Rey ducked her head, her blood running a million miles an hour through her body, her smile threatening to stretch too wide. People didn’t often flirt with her. She thought she liked it. 

“Nah, I like the strange way you talk,” she said glibly, feeling brave. Judging by the slight widening of his eyes and the blush darkening his face, he liked it too. She stuck her hand out. 

“Well since we’ve both helped each other, I guess I should introduce myself. I’m Kira.”

“Kylo.” He took her hand in his and she was pleased to feel hard calluses on his fingers, the curve in his forefinger that spoke of the heavy use of a calligraphy stylus. His brown eyes were twinkling as if he were hiding something. Perhaps he was a lord, especially in this area, a visiting one, and he didn’t use his real name. She tried not to shrug. It wasn’t unheard of, she thought. But it did suggest that perhaps he was more of a player than appearances suggested. 

“Yo!” the curly headed man from before shouted. “We need to go! Snap is severely hurt!” Kylo’s features became tight and Rey pressed her lips together. She stepped to the side. 

“It was nice meeting you, Kylo,” she said, trying the name out on her tongue. She found that she liked the way the vowels fit there, the smooth slide of the consonant blend, the rounding of her mouth to finish it. He grinned again and let go of her hand with a long sigh.

“I hope to see you again. Kira.” He sounded earnestly sincere and Rey was sure her face was aflame. Not trusting her voice, she nodded curtly and turned away. She could feel his eyes on her, a stare that sought out her shape underneath the cloak. Warmth flooded her and she had to order herself not to skip as she entered the park to find Ciena Ree waiting for her. 

* * *

“What do you think you are doing?” Poe Dameron asked crossly, his hands on his hips. The sun had set and they were thoroughly settled into the Alderaan house. Dried blood was flaking off his hand as he brusquely ordered hot water and a bowl. The servant scurried off. Ben leaned back in the chair, his body grateful for the thick cushions after two weeks of hard riding. His arm still ached from the skirmish with the bandits three days outside the city. Alderaan was victorious, of course, but more than a few men and women were injured. Leia had burned with righteous anger, sure Tarkin was behind the move. 

Couple with this afternoon’s drama with the loss of a horse, Snap’s shattered leg had only prolonged their rest and the exhaustion was thick on both of their faces. Poe slumped into a chair his shoulders sagging and Ben’s heart twinged. 

“I’m not sure I know what you are referring to,” Ben replied thickly. The servant from before bustled in with a tray. She efficiently placed a bowl, a pile of thick towels, and a steaming pitcher in front of Poe. She also offloaded a plate laden with carved meat, cheese, bread and a flagon of beer. Ben idly wished it were caf but he thanked her as he reached for a few slices of meat. Poe began to wash his hands before tearing off a piece of bread.

“That girl from before. The one who helped calm down Ebon Hawk. Before he bolted again.” Poe shook his head. “I knew we shouldn’t have brought him along. He doesn’t like the city. Too many smells.”

“Father said they found an old friend who’ll stable him outside the city. In Bespin, I think,” Ben answered. He hoped to distract Poe. Ebon Hawk was a notoriously difficult stallion but he responded to Wexley well enough most of the time. 

“The girl, Ben. The girl. You were flirting with her. In the city of your intended.” Poe pointed at him as he poured two glasses of beer and shoved one across to Ben. The prince ignored the question to take a long grateful draw from the mug. He began to cough, making a face at the beer before taking a sniff. This was definitely not Alderaanian ale. It was dark and thick with a sour chocolatey taste. Poe was topping his off, explaining it was an Imperial stout. Ben shrugged and took a small, cautious sip. He wasn’t sure if he would learn to love it.

“Is your plan to befriend the girl? Get all of the dirt before meeting the princess?” 

“No,” Ben drawled, shaking his head. “She helped us out. I didn’t want her to get injured.”

“It helped that she was cute,” Poe pointed out in his smug way and Ben rolled his eyes. Trust Poe to be thinking with his dick. He wasn’t wrong, though. Ben had watched from astride Ebon Hawk, his thighs tightly gripping the horse, as she approached, her arms out, her voice soft and reassuring. He could feel the horse relaxing beneath him, his muscles shaking less, his breaths becoming slower and deeper. Ben had been stupid, thinking he could control Ebon Hawk and nearly had been tossed for it. If it hadn’t been for Kira---he sharply inhaled. 

It could have been him laying up in the infirmary, instead of Wexley. But that girl had a careful, slow hand, a calming nature that had brought Ebon Hawk to heel before the stupid hostler on loan had smacked the horse with a crop. Ben made a mental note to make sure that the boy was let go. Anger had no place in the stable. Or in his home. 

“It would be nice to have an ally in the palace,” Poe mused and Ben huffed. 

“I don’t think making allies of the women in the palace is a good look for me.”

“It’s just a marriage for state purposes, Ben. No one said you had to be loyal to her.” The stark truth fell hard on Ben. It felt too loud in this small room. Poe had the grace to look embarrassed, he mumbled an apology and Ben waved it away. 

It was true. There really wasn’t much forcing him or Rey to be loyal to one another, only to the Empire. He only needed to assist in creating an heir and a spare. The role of an Imperial consort was relatively new. The princess’s parents were largely diplomatic, visiting the Empire, with their attention on children and mothers. The Emperor still had a tight rein on the day to day running. And the consort then was a woman, Rey’s mother--not a man like him. 

He imagined the Emperor shoving him to the side, in some dusty forgotten part of the Palace, only visiting the main rooms when the princess demanded it. His role neutered; anger coursed through him, at his inability to reign. He had been raised to rule his whole life. He had already declared his three challenges of Body, Mind, and Heart and had completed them. He had the heir’s crown. His mother had begun transferring accounts for him to monitor. To be reduced to a child’s role...His snarl tore through the room as his arm flung out, smacking the flagon into the wall. It shattered loudly, beer dripping down staccato. 

Poe drew back, his hand automatically going to his sword. Baring his teeth, Ben stalked out of his room and into the courtyard. It was rectangular, bound on all sides by the sloping veranda, a fountain bubbling in the middle. Ben’s anger fell into a panic and he felt trapped. He raced through the rooms and out onto the street, down to the park he saw earlier. The pounding of boots on pavement comforted him as he darted inside, nearly colliding into a couple strolling on a path. A woman scolded him and he held up his hands, managing to look embarrassed. 

Taking a deep, calming breath, Ben looked around the park. The air was hazy with the coming of night, the sky had begun to darken, a peach fading into violet. There were carefully crafted garden beds all around him and he peered down at one to read a placard about a rare orchid.

“I didn’t take you as a flower enthusiast,” quipped a familiar voice and he jerked up to see Kira. Her hood was drawn back, her hair in three tight buns. He could see a trail of freckles across her nose and was startled by how young she actually looked. 

“I’m...I’m not actually,” he admitted. “But I wanted to...to explore the city.”

“Ah,” Kira said noncommittally. “Well, the parks I heard are not the place to start.” 

“Oh yeah? Where does one go?” He gave her a bemused grin. She crinkled her nose, as if considering his question. 

“I met a woman named Maz she owns a cantina on the fourth level. Supposedly you could have a right good time there,” she offered and Ben nodded along with her. He held out his arm and she tentatively took it, her hand laying flat on his forearm. A familiar court gesture and he wondered what kind of training Imperial servants had. 

“Will you join me for a walk?” he asked, tugging slightly down the path to the trees its branches were twisted together to form a canopy, with drooping flowers. Kira ducked her head and nodded. He noticed that she was taking two steps to his one so forced himself to slow down from a march. 

“I do need to head back though,” Kira ventured. “Before the dinner bell.” 

“Will one turn about the park be enough time?” he asked. He wondered why he enjoyed spending time with her. She was cute, he admitted, but he had seen beautiful woman. He was sure to see an artfully painted Reynessa in a few weeks. However, he found himself admiring the rosy nature of her cheeks and the twinkle in her eyes that promised trouble. She was vibrating with life and promise and he wanted to cling to her. 

He wasn’t afraid to say, she had a deft hand with a horse and he couldn’t help but admire that. 

“What brought you to Coruscant?” she asked. 

“Oh, family business,” he said vaguely. It wasn’t quite a lie, he thought bitterly. She nodded as if that made sense. And he supposed it would to her as she knew him to be a noble from his wardrobe and his servants. “What do you do in the palace?”

“Oh, I, uh, I assist the princess,” she mumbled, turning away from him to study a strange plant, a bright white and black, emitting an oddly intoxicating musky scent. “Did you capture the horse?”

Ben told her they did and that he had been stabled outside the city. That sparked a long conversation about horses and riding styles. She argued passionately, her entire face alight, her hands moving animatedly as she talked. He found himself agreeing with her half the time and it was to both of their surprise once they arrived back at the gate. Kira glanced at the sky and let out a squeak.

“I’m going to be late.” She gathered her skirts to run but Ben’s hand shot out to grab her wrist.

“Can I see you again?” he asked breathlessly, amazed at his courage, angry at his stupidity. This could not happen. Kira blushed, opened her mouth before closing it and ran her tongue along her teeth.

“It’s difficult to get away,” she said cautiously and he nodded, understanding. They both had demanding roles; his as a royal, her as an assistant to a princess. Time was not always their own. 

“Perhaps in two days? In the afternoon. Here in this park,” Kira suggested and Ben nodded. 

“Of course, anything. I’ll see you here.” He lifted her hand, pressed his lips against it, surprised by how smooth her fingers were and how they smelled of jasmine and sandalwood. She trembled, snatching her hand back, eyes wide. Ben began to apologize but she whirled away, racing down the street, before he could get out a single word. 

She didn’t look quite offended as pleased, he thought, lifting a hand to touch his lips. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your support! 
> 
> Not beta'd. All errors are my own

“The Alderaan delegation arrived at their lodgings two days ago,” Armitage reported, his eyes never leaving the paper in front of him. Emperor Palpatine gave a rattling cough and reached for the tea he had to rely on to help soothe his throat from such exertions. “Princess Leia has requested an audience regarding an attack their convoy received on their way here. She was here yesterday and this morning.”

“I cannot stop every petty thief in this empire. Audience denied,” Palpatine spat. Tarkin gave Armitage an amused glance as he leaned back in his seat, finger tracing across his thin slash of a mouth. Armitage tucked away the eyebrow that longed to raise. It was a poor tactic, even he could see that. Angering the potential mother-in-law to his granddaughter? Unless, of course… Armitage folded his arms down and eyed Palpatine. The wrinkled husk of a man, wrapped in a dark hooded cloak, glared up at him. 

“What is it?” 

“I’m just wondering what we gain from refusing her an audience,” Armitage began, his voice low, his tone speculative. “She is going to be related to Rey soon, through marriage, is she not? Do we not want to give her the sense that we welcome her?” Palpatine stared at him and Armitage tried not to shrink into himself. Tarkin chuckled and Hux wondered just how a sliver of a man was able to produce such a rich sound. 

“Your majesty, if I may,” Tarkin interjected. “Perhaps we’ve been far too lax in fully considering the ramifications of making the Solo boy your granddaughter’s husband.” Hux held his breath, waiting for the onslaught, but instead, Palpatine delicately lifted his tea cup and cocked his head. As if understanding the gesture, Tarkin continued:

“Perhaps they don’t understand the beneficence you are granting. Already the princess is displaying entitlement by demanding an audience. For something we can hardly control. We certainly can’t stop every bandit out there.” He snorted before eyeing Armitage. Alarms began to ring in his mind and he clutched his bundle of papers tightly, wondering if his sweat would smear the ink. 

Palpatine caught the line that Tarkin was throwing and smiling grimly. Hux mused that’s how Death appeared when reaping souls of those he particularly loathed. 

“Is my granddaughter to your liking, little Armitage? I’ve seen how cozy you two look when collaborating on her education schemes.” Palpatine’s smile grew wider. “She is a step above your lowly station, earned by your mother, on her back.” The sneer was one Hux was used to, one he had heard dozens of times before, but one he could not effectively defend against yet. He stiffened, his back ramrod straight, teeth tearing through his own lip, snuffling as blood flooded his mouth. 

“May I suggest we bring back the marriage by combat trials?” Tarkin suggested with a sly glance. A glacier speared Hux’s spine, every cell locked into place, and he closed his eyes to avoid showing the whites of them. But Tarkin’s slight huff let him know that he had already lost. 

Palpatine nodded. “Yes. This works out quite nicely. I will revive the trial of marriage by combat. You, you will compete against Ben Solo. If he competes at all.” Palpatine paused to cackle. “There are ways to make him compete.” Hux swallowed and Tarkin toasted him, lifting his cup sardonically.

“Congratulations little Armie. I wonder what your father will make of this honor.” Armitage inhaled sharply through his nose but willed his shoulders to remain still, to keep his features placid.

“I am grateful and honored by the opportunity to fight for the princess’s hand,” he got out through stiff lips. Palpatine nodded in a sickly pantomime of generosity, a chortle escaping his lips, a rasping broken sound. 

“We will meet with Leia, tonight. To see how she takes this change. And to see if this marriage is the correct way to punish Alderaan for harboring rebels.” He waved Hux away who staggered out on coltish legs, wondering just what he was going to tell his father. He also wondered how to tell Rey, even as the plan to win the trial of romance began to form in his head. 

And unlike Ben Solo, he had a competitive advantage. 

* * *

“Come on Phas!” Rey pleaded. “Give me one more shot.” Phasma sighed and ran her hand through her sweat flecked blonde cap. She eyed the princess clad in leggings, her hair piled under a hat to prevent her from being discovered. As if it would help. She nodded once to Rey whose fingers tightened on her fighting staff. Gods help her for allowing this girl to twist her arm into teaching her these skills.

“Right,” Phasma nearly growled. “Make sure you are holding your staff in the middle. No, keep that thumb below, never on top!” She crossed the small clearing they were using for their clandestine meeting that Rey had pushed incessantly for the past two days since she had disappeared from the castle. She adjusted Rey’s stance so the girl was standing sideways to avoid hitting her legs. 

Rey’s absence was still a sore spot for Phasma. Her disappearance for nearly three hours had almost sent the castle into a flurry until Rey had appeared suddenly, stumbling out of the stable, her cheeks rosy red. Phasma had nearly drove her men crazy with her lectures. For this princess, don’t check the dressing rooms first. Always, always, always, the stables. 

“The staff will move on its own. You are merely directing it. The tree blows in the wind, you are determining the direction.” She ordered Rey to follow one end of the staff as it moved in lazy figures, stepping as needed to adjust her stance and to aid her passing the staff from one hand to the other.

“My arms are shaking,” Rey confessed and Phasma snorted.

“Of course they are. The most you do is pour tea. This is real work.” Rey made a face and continued to move the staff in fluid figure eights, her arm trembling but holding, a bead of sweat trickling down the side of her face. Phasma gave a curt compliment and Rey folded against herself, slumping against a tree. They were in one of the outer gardens of the complex, abutting the mountains, and here the ground was hard, scattered with a carpet of pine needles, their branches a light green with the arrival of spring. 

“You can do some exercises to build your arm strength,” Phasma explained and tested the weight of a tree limb before taking a firm grip and lifting upward until her chin cleared the branch. She continued doing so and Rey’s mouth dropped. After twenty repetitions, Phasma allowed herself to drop to the ground, grinning cockily. 

“That’s...that’s incredible,” Rey admitted. She leapt up, hanging on tightly, and Phasma bit back a smile as Rey struggled to lift herself. 

“You have to start out small, darling.” Groaning, Rey fell to the ground, glaring balefully at her. Phasma smiled before gauging the sun’s track across the sky. There was a drill soon with her men and she needed to hurry back to the barracks. She ordered Rey to continue practicing with the staff until they were able to meet again.

“But when do I learn to attack?” Rey asked, almost pouting, foot scuffing over the ground. Phasma sighed and picked up her own training staff. Every time I teach a new one, I have to do this same thing, she thought tiredly. One day, she hoped she’d find someone who would find value in defense. 

“Come on then. You attack. I’ll only defend myself with those figure eight movies.” Phasma slipped into her fighting stance, resting comfortably into her seat, twirling the bow easily. Rey picked up her staff and aimed it at Phasma, charging her. With a dip of her staff, Phasma blocked it. Rey jerked upwards and, keeping to the figure eight move, Phasma stopped it with a loud clonk. Rey backed up, puzzled, as Phasma kept the dips and swoops of her staff smooth, the figure eight a steady, even pace. Rey swung her staff like a bat--thunk! Blocked. She drove downward, toward Phasma’s gut, and the move up from Phasma’s staff smacked Rey’s. 

Rey stepped in to cover the distance, swinging to Phasma’s shoulder. Grinning Phasma blocked it before sweeping her staff behind Rey’s leg. She hooked it, and Rey toppled to the ground with a gasp. Phasma kept her movements even as she brought the staff against Rey’s throat. Rey huffed as she gazed angrily up at Phasma. 

“Attacking is no good without defending.” 

“You tricked me,” Rey accused as Phasma stepped back and offered a hand. Rey refused it, pushing herself up, needles clinging to her leggings and long tunic. 

“I taught you,” Phasma corrected. “And it’s past time for me to teach my men. Can you make your way back to your rooms?” Rey nodded and proffered her thanks as Phasma waved her off, muttering about why a princess even needed to know how to fight. Still, it pleased her that the princess she agreed to watch was not the fainting type. Even in loss, she resorted to a quick flash of temper. Phasma was unsure if that temper was a wise trait in a ruler but Rey’s determination was gratifying. 

Rey watched Phasma’s retreating back before diving into the bush, scrambling for the bag she bought. Glancing around quickly, she slipped out of the legging and into the thick woolen stockings, hissing as they itched her flesh. She slid into the pale beige servant dress from before and tossed the white cloak around her shoulders. Rose had told her that there was a gate near this clearing, one that was not frequently patrolled. It had taken some cajoling to get Phasma to agree to training and, particularly, in this distant corner. Rey had pled her case on the incident in the courtyard. She didn’t want her grandfather to see or to accidentally harm other men. It had worked. 

And now Rey crept along, staff in her hand, following the directions Rose had given her. She lifted herself over the chest high stone wall that bordered the garden and plodded through the dense forest lining the back of the castle. The palace abutted the lowest range of the Parnassos mountains and brisk air ruffled her hair. Spring would not bloom on the mountain for a few more months, when summer swathed Coruscant in humid and heat, and even then, not on the highest peaks. Needles snapped under her feet as she hurried through the forest before she darted behind a tree. 

There, in the southwest corner, was a wooden gate and a guard slouched on the wall near it. Rey inhaled sharply and scooped up a pine cone. Angling it, she flung it toward a tree. It smashed as it smacked the trunk. The guard didn’t even stir. Rey blew out her breath. How to get by this guard?

She took a step and a branch cracked beneath her foot. Rey froze as the guard bolted upright, his sword sweeping out. 

“Who’s there? Show yourself!” he shouted, his eyes hidden by his visor. Rey sighed and crept out around the tree, her hands held high. The guard balked before visibly relaxing. 

“Oh, I didn’t see you. Are you new here?” 

She bit her lip before replying: “Yes, I’m...I’m Kira. Rose sent me this way into the market.” The guard’s sword dropped but he didn’t sheath it entirely. He nodded at her and her hands dropped to her side, her staff lying at her feet. The guard jerked his chin toward it.

“My name is Finn. Why would Rose send you this way?”

“Oh, umm, I was out in the gardens, completing a task. She told me this would be the fastest way.” Finn paused, his hand visibly tightening for a moment before giving a curt hum. 

“Will I see you often this way...Kira?” The question felt loaded and Rey paused. She shouldn’t be going this way. In fact, she should be telling Kylo that she wouldn’t see him again--that this had to stop. Ciena had drilled into her the closely regulated steps in the marriage process. She was due to meet Ben Solo--well, sort of--in the next two days. The eight steps, not including the total of the trials the husband candidate must take, were long and ingrained in custom where the goal was to ensure a happy and profitable marriage. Rey supposed she should be pleased that her happiness was even on the table, although hearing her grandfather ramble about the problems with Alderaan, she suspected it was at the very bottom of the list. 

“Ummm, probably not,” Rey said at last and Finn shrugged, as if her deliberations were of no concern to him. He unlocked the door and swung it open, pointing out the partially hidden steps that would take her into town. She could feel the prickles of his gaze on her and she turned to face him.

“Are you often the only guard here?” she asked, wincing as her tone was far more imperial than she had hoped. Finn’s head tilted and she wished she could see his face behind his mask.

“Are you planning on rendezvousing with your lover here?” Rey blushed fiercely. “Because if so, I should let you know that you aren’t the only one and it can get quite amorous in the evenings.” Rey’s eyes widened and she ducked her head down, pulling her hood around her face. She mumbled her thanks, Finn’s teasing laughter trailing her as she hurried down the steps. It took about twenty minutes of the path winding its way along the edge of cliffs where she was able to peek out on the first level below before it dumped her at the edge of the marketplace. Purchasing two apple turnovers and a bottle of ale--and pleased that she managed to use the coins correctly--she headed out of the level to the park.

The sun was higher now, its rays beating down on her, and she wished she could fling back her hood as she strolled through the second level. But the risk was too great and she sighed gustily. The park’s entrance came into view and she tried to stop the smile threatening to spread as she ordered herself not to become too excited. It was possible that Kylo couldn’t make it. 

She had spent the last two nights trying to pin down why he had sent butterflies swarming in her stomach. Was it the smile? The gentle eyes? His earnest in conversation? Was it the kindness he extended toward her? It had to be the courteousness that wasn’t grounded in deference to her title. He had acted as if her words and opinions had value because of the merit in them, not the title saying them. 

Drying her sweaty palms on her skirt, she eyed the park. She didn’t see him in the blue clad couple swanning past or the teenager sketching on a bench. She ventured further into the park, somewhat pleased to see that it was nearly isolated. And there, around a corner, setting a blanket out, was Kylo. She studied him for a moment--his lanky frame, his goatee, his large hands smoothing the edges of the blanket. Fastidious, she thought, wondering if Ben Solo demanded that and wondered how he would react to her often chaotic nature. 

“Hey,” she greeted, coming out of the shadows. Kylo shot up, hand flying to his sword, before smiling broadly at her. Pleasure suffused his cheeks and she could see the tips of his ears turn red. She was delighted that he appeared as happy as she did. 

“I have, I have a picnic for us,” he said hurriedly, pointing to the blanket and Rey lifted her basket. She handed him her finds and he exclaimed over the apple turnovers, admitting they were some of his favorite. 

“My mother is a passable cook--she can throw together a decent meal but desserts are a bit frivolous. So I would steal sweets whenever I could. Although that was generally frowned upon,” he told her as he consumed the pastry in a few quick bites, unassuming enough to lick his fingers clean. Rey hurriedly avoided the strangely intimate action and rummaged through his basket, pleased to see more than a variety of cheeses and fruits. Thick slices of meat and one kind of cheese and crusty bread. Rey had no compunction in assembling a sandwich and taking a large bite. Kylo’s brow raised.

“Do they not feed you there?”

“Oh yeah, but you know, getting out of the palace is hungry work!” Kylo chuckled, a rich sound that rubbed like velvet down her spine and she felt her fingers twitch. She dropped her gaze to stare at her sandwich, Kylo sliding a slice of cheese into his mouth. He picked up her staff, standing to twirl it. 

“This isn’t some walking stick.” He looked down at her and she nodded. He made a noise of approval. “I’d like to see what you can do, if that’s alright.”

“I’m a novice.” He offered his hand and hauled her up, handing her the stuff. Glancing around to see if they were alone, she cast off her cloak and began to swing the staff the way Phasma taught her. Kylo nodded, thumbing his beard, as he came behind her, correcting her thumb posture.

“Your shoulders are tight. You need to loosen them.”

“It’s a bit...it’s a bit harder work than assisting a lady,” she lied, almost worried at how easily bending her truth to present a reasonable image was becoming. Kylo chuckled and offered to show her a few exercises she could use to build up the muscle tone. Thinking of Phasma’s demonstration, Rey waved him off and began to ask about his horse. They talked about Ebon Hawk and horse training methods with Kylo intently listening to her. The conversation turned to the meeting soon between their respective leaders. 

“I’m really not sure why Alderaan was chosen,” Kylo said carefully, popping open the ale that Rey had purchased. She shook her head, eyeing the sky and thinking that she had to head back soon. She wondered what intel Kylo would take back with him to his master.

“I don’t believe she has much choice in it either,” Rey said, licking her lips, and dipping back into Kylo’s basket to pull out an odd blue box. She studied it as Kylo took it and flipped it open to reveal chocolate dipped fruits. She gasped and delicately touched them.

“I’ve heard of Alderaaian fruit before,” she cooed. The fruits were bright purple and orange and red and the chocolate was velvety and dark, covered in sprinkles, or artistic doodles with white chocolate. 

“I’d assume you had these,” Kylo commented coolly and she shook her head vigorously. 

“The Emperor is extremely conservative in his taste. He likes cakes and macarons and pies. Chocolate covered fruit is a decadence. I know for sure the princess has never had anything like this.” Her fingers hovered over the fruit and Kylo made an amused noise before selecting an orange fruit. 

“Try the meiloorun fruit.” Rey popped it in her mouth and tried not to moan at the juicy smoky flavors flooding her senses. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, relishing in the tastes, the sun on her face, the sandalwood cinnamon smell of the man next to her. It was a dream, it had to be. There was no way this could be her reality. 

“We should go for a ride,” Kylo said abruptly, cutting into the sorrow creeping along to drown her happiness. She craned her neck to stare up at him, calculating the time and the danger. If he saw her legs...if anyone found out. She pressed her lips together and Kylo squatted down in front of her.

“The estate we are in is quite large. No one would see you.” His long dark lashes brushed his cheeks as he continued shyly: “I think you’d like it. You seemed free with Ebon Hawk. Although, Amidala is nowhere near as wild.” She bit her lip, torn between her duty and her desire. Kylo’s eyes sparked with mischief and warmth. She thought back to that afternoon in the rain, with the screaming, with blood speckling Phasma’s armor and her courage failed her. 

She never wanted to be responsible for any horror like that again. Especially not to him. Not to Kylo. She swore to herself that she would protect him as much as possible. 

“I can’t,” she began and he shook his head, rising. 

“Are you so afraid?” he demanded, his fists clenching, knuckles burning white. 

“Yes!” Kylo snorted, whirling around, to stalk out. “But not for me--for you! You don’t know what the Emperor demands! What he does!” Kylo froze then, his back ramrod straight, before he turned around and glared at her coldly. 

“I don’t know? I don’t know?! Do they teach you the history of Alderaan and the Rebellion here in Coruscant? Did they tell you about the spectacular weapons the Emperor levied against those poor people in Alderaan?” He was breathing fire now, the rage spilling from it, his large frame quivering. Rey’s hand drifted toward her staff, fear digging icy nails into her gut for the first time. Kylo caught the movement, his nostrils flaring, as he struggled to curb the hot edges of his anger. 

“Winners write the history, Kira. Maybe try finding some alternative histories,” he bit out and Rey stood, holding her quarterstaff tightly. He shook his head, lips tightening as if holding back vitriol. Think of it as an exercise in dealing with an angry envoy, Rey told herself.

“You are obviously very passionate about your country and I apologize for my lack of knowledge. I didn’t mean to offend,” she began softly, haltingly, fighting the desire to pitch her voice higher. “But I too have seen the things that the Emperor has ordered here in Coruscant. Most of it is individual instances of cruelty. I would not have directed at you.” 

Kylo drooped, anger easing from him, and she made a note that he had a dreadful temper. Rey gathered her items, slipping the cloak back on, and weighed her next words.

“Why do you stay here? Why do you work for his granddaughter? Surely…”

“If you are going to suggest that she shares the same values, then the answer is no. She is committed to the Empire but sees it as the people. Not just marks on a map.” She was curt, almost rude, her own temper flaring. She was tired of being thought of as a miniature grandfather, merely waiting in the wings to continue his reign. She was making strides in the Imperial Academy. She was wrangling funds for better maternal care. She would usher in a new Empire. 

“I certainly hope that is true. For Ben’s sake.”

Rey licked her lips and brushed past him. “Yes, otherwise it won’t be a peaceful marriage for either of us.” And lifting her chin, she headed out. She was rounding the corner toward the entrance when a hand wrapped around her arm. She whirled around, the staff striking out. But Kylo was smooth, ducking below the sweeping staff, hand snapping around it, his feet sliding on the ground as he moved in front of her. She gasped. 

“How did you--”

“I don’t want to end like this, Kira. I’m sorry. I...I don’t want our last works to be one of anger.” He was pale, frightened or overwhelmed, she thought. But the sadness was real in the darkness of his eyes and she felt her own anger ebb away. 

“I don’t either.” He stepped closer to her, cutting off an escape route, boxing her in, her staff in his hands. 

“I want to see you again,” he murmured. “And less talk of politics this time.”

“We are on opposite sides, Kylo. it’s bound to happen.” Her heart fluttered as he hand came up, a knuckle tracing down the side of her face. For a moment there was nothing but their combined inhale--shock at his daring, at her compliance--the sound of butterfly wings in her ears, the birds chirping the late afternoon calls, the tang of the meiloorun fruit hot on her lips. His hand was dry, soft, a callous on the edge that frayed her self control and she found her hands flexing, hesitating, aching to touch him.

A touch that would be for her, for her wants, not for what her grandfather wanted. Or what Ben Solo wanted. Only for her. To touch anyone on her own terms. To kiss anyone as she desired. Not to slot in some role she needed to play. The intensity of that emotion caught her by surprise. Alright, perhaps I am angrier than I let on about this marriage, she thought. 

“Can you get away tomorrow?”

She couldn’t. She knew she couldn’t. She had a fitting. She had to prepare for the elaborate wine and toast ceremony for the meeting of the families. But she nodded anyways, captivated by the earnest expression fluttering on his face, his lips twitching to betray his uncertainty. 

“Early in the morning.” True. No lie there. It would have to be terribly early.

“Come to the Praal Paddock on the third level. Be daring with me. I promise to make it worth your while.” Her belly clenched and not trusting her voice, she nodded. Kylo let out a tremulous exhale and he stepped away, pressing the staff into her hand, leaning forward to whisper to her that one day he would teach her how not to be disarmed. Her cheeks burned and she nodded again before whispering her goodbye, his hot breath caressing the shell of her ear, and she all but fled. 

She made record time back to the Palace, stripping out of the white gown, and hurrying into a simple cobalt colored gown that cut low on her shoulders, showing off her collarbone and the tan that was beginning to bronze her skin. As spring crept ever closer to summer, she would insist on her right to be outside more frequently. Thrawn always indulged her in moving lessons out into the gardens. She wondered if Ciena would do the same. And speaking of Thrawn, she was going to be late. Gathering the course work that she had completed, for once, she bolted for the classroom.

And crashed into Armitage, their notes flying everywhere. Rey dropped to her knees, scrambling for papers when she heard a clearing of a throat. She looked around to see the servants staring at her and terror flooded her system. She was spending too much time around Kylo, she fumed, as a hand extended toward her. She took it and saw the curiosity on Hux’s wan face. 

“I apologize for running into you, Your Highness,” he said crisply with a curt bow. She waved him away and turned her attention to the papers scattered everywhere. A servant scuttled over and began to group them together, Rey groaning as her work was lost in the shuffle of Hux’s notes.

“No worries. I’ll walk you to your lessons and we’ll sort this out,”Hux reassured her and she smiled gratefully. She could always rely on him to try to solve a situation, she thought, as he offered her his arm. She took it, hand scarcely lying on his forearm. He guided her through the corridors, telling her about the upcoming events that week. He was a good secretary, she mused. And hoped she could keep him after the marriage. Secretaries were often exchanged for one of the same sex and she needed Rose for something much more important. 

“Has your grandfather spoken to you yet?” Hux asked hesitantly and Rey’s brows knitted together. Hux chuckled and reached up to smooth the line away with his thumb. She tried not to flinch at the damp feel of his finger against her skin.

“About what? The ceremony in two days?” Hux snorted and moved away, his frame somehow growing larger. She never noticed how tall he was or how large his hands were. It was odd, for a man, in a mostly administrative position. He pulled his arms back, and she watched the fabric rustle, straining against muscles she never suspected were there. Trepidation skittered along her skin and she wasn’t sure why. 

“He is changing the arrangement. He is bringing back the trial of combat.” Rey snorted at Hux’s smooth delivery. 

“That’s archaic,” she commented, watching him kneel to sort through the papers. 

“Yes, but he believes it will be beneficial to the Empire.” She chewed on her lip, studying him as he finished, and rose to face her, his papers neatly tucked under his arm. 

“Do you know who the other combatants are?” she asked, finally, almost weary of this marriage. Too bad she wasn’t a simple servant who could run off with Kylo, she thought almost wistfully before banishing it. 

“Yes. I shall be one, by order of the Emperor.” Her eyes widened as Hux picked up her hand and bent over it, brushing dry lips over her knuckles. She shivered and he glanced up, an interested gleam in his glass green eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me either at Twitter or Tumblr at HausCrashBurn


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry   
> it's tax season im an accountant, im trying to do updates every 2 weeks  
> it's totally unedited and my apologies of errors. I will catch them in the next week or two.

Leia Organa was about to commit homicide and in front of a packed room too, full to the brim of courtiers in florid colors and sticky perfumes. Her nails pinched her palms and her teeth ground themselves into dust, her control on the edge of tripping into the rage shimmering with each pulse of her heart. Still, she kept her mask on, the edges of her smile strained, as she listened to Tarkin prattle about his inability to protect everyone on their trip to Coruscant. 

“If you are unable to offer auxiliary troops along main roads, then I wonder just what the royal treasury is being used for? Outside the new palatial wing, of course,” Leia murmured, lowering her lashes and watching him through them, a modest gesture that she had learned as a child. Tarkin stiffened at her words. 

“That new wing is going to house the Imperial archive. The Emperor is looking for our people, preserving our history.” There was a soft laugh and her ears picked up at the interested rustle of the courtiers around her. 

“And which history will he be preserving?” she snapped, catching her breath at the last moment. Tarkin raised a skeletal sketch of a brow before leaning back in his seat, simpering in his pleasure at the bait she had taken. Leia cursed inwardly. 

“All I am saying is that we were waylaid twice by bandits. Surely the Emperor’s powerful armies can be directed to stationing a few garrisons along the road into the city. These roads are primary targets.”

“And offer what? A military target? Oh no, I’m afraid, your highness, that there isn’t much we can do. Our apologies.” The words were lame and the Emperor cackled from his throne at the head of the room. 

Leia forced an approximation of a smile, certain it read false, and dipped her head. 

“Thank you for hearing our case,” she managed through a tightening throat, her flesh raw from the nails dragging across her palms. Tarkin’s triumph cut across the room, his gloating, tucked away in the crevices of his hollowed cheeks, more than evident to everyone in that room and Leia felt her position crumble. She would not lose Alderaan. She would protect Ben. She took a deep breath. 

“Now that the Emperor has kindly heard my petition, may we address why I was called to Coruscant?” Palpatine heaved himself into an upright position and Leia noted how sickly he looked. It was recent, her spy told her, appearing the last couple weeks. The normally vibrant man had taken a sickly grey pallor to his skin and his energy had waned noticeably. Leia eyed the men sitting around him, the so called advisers, and wondered which one was poisoning him. She didn’t care that the food was carefully monitored. There was always a way around it. And in this den of snakes, it was more than possible. 

“The princess would like to know the fate of her son, it seems,” Palpatine mused and Leia’s heart hitched. For a moment, his face assumed a mask of beneficence before slipping into its ghoulish visage. “As a grandfather to a child who lost her parents, a father who lost his son, I understand her concern.”    
  


Leia bowed her head, heart hammering in her chest, and wondered where he was going. To her horror, he didn’t leave her waiting long. 

“I wish I could guarantee your son’s safety--” Leia exclaimed loudly at this and Palpatine held up a spindly hand “but it seems as if there is another.”

“Another what?” she demanded hotly. Tarkin gestured at a servant who scurried off to open a door. A slim, tall redheaded man stepped forward then and bowed deeply. Tarkin took his place beside him and Leia’s wariness rose. The room already seemed emptier from the redheaded’s entrance. He seemed to suck all life out of the room and the court’s whispers died out. 

“This is Armitage Hux. You are probably aware of his father,” Tarkin began, his rich voice rolling through the room. The murmurs from the rest of the courtiers increased and Palpatine’s sharp hiss sliced the room into silence. Leia studied the other man uneasily. Despite his bland tone and frame that would pale next to Ben’s, Leia wasn’t fooled. There was strength in him. And an uncanniness. He tilted his head and she gave her brow a fraction of a lift. 

“Armitage is quite close to my granddaughter, her personal secretary in fact. He just returned from escorting her to her lessons. I expect her to have the very best, you know,” Palpatine purred and Leia braced for the barrage of insults. “And that’s what I wonder if she'll get with your son. The very best.”

Leia haughtily raised her chin proudly as she spoke: “Ben has been involved in the day to day operations of Alderaan for several years now.” She longed to continue to praise the work he had done in the post war recovery of Alderaan--stimulus packages to the farmers, peace treaties with the Tusken raiders, economic studies to improve the trade routes and work to bring libraries out to the furthest reaches of the country. He had done so much and her heart was fair to bursting with pride in his work, in despite of his temper--a quick flash and a bang, much like his father. He didn’t burn like she did. He didn’t smolder. 

Which, thank the gods, is why he wasn’t here at this meeting. He wouldn’t have been able to stop his mouth from running. 

A brilliant head for ruling, a terrible temperment for politics. Han’s son in temper, her son in inclination. 

“I understand,” she said flintly. “A marriage trial by combat will certainly bring attention and excitement into the wedding process.” 

“Ah yes, she understands,” Palpatine chuckled, his eyes gleaming darkly. “And I imagine your son will do nicely. If Alderaan wins, he will be more than a consort. He will have equal ruling power with Princess Reynessa. If he loses, well, Alderaan is the jewel of the Empire is it not? If he fails, I would lose confidence in his abilities and the nature of our relationship would be up for negotiation.” 

Leia could number the times in which her breath had been stolen from her. When Ben had been placed in her arms, pain slowly ebbing down her spine, his pinched features tight, his nose so incredibly Han’s. When Han first kissed her aboard his rebel vessel--stolen the breath from her, stolen her kiss, but how every centimeter of her lips had burned. When she had seen Alderaan destroyed. When Tarkin had tried to steal it all from her and she had clung on with fierce desperation, her sword destroying his face and her hopes. 

And now, now this. This maneuvering of Ben. For either way they lose. 

Her voice warbled when she spoke: “Of course, your majesty. I will inform him to prepare for the trial.”

“The first one shall be tomorrow,” the Emperor commanded. “A trial by fire. We hope to see your son’s. . .prowess.” It is a wicked smile, full of a promise she loathed to see fulfilled. But Leia inclined her head and began to back away. She caught Tarkin’s grim pleasure and reached up to touch her eye. His smile vanished and she took his anger with her to inform Han and Ben of this new change. 

But not before speaking with her spy. After all, it was a lovely morning for a walk in the gardens. 

* * *

The low peach light of the early morning was diffused by the fog that had rolled off the sea. It clung to the hay and Rey left her fingers drift across it. She leaned against the paddock post, watching Kylo trot out an elegant lined stallion. The stallion was at least seventeen hands high, his trot a stately thing, his head tossing in the cool air, his feet kicking out at the soft soil. 

Rey giggled. “He’s quite the show horse, then.”

“Grimtaash? Nah, he’s bred for war,” Kylo said, running a pleased hand over Grimtaash’s flank. It was an oddly fitting name for the horse, a dark smudge against the morning light. He was all black except for one white stocking on his left foreleg and a white smear along his nose, with a little star kiss near the top of his forelock. He pranced for a moment, preening at her attention, and Rey laughed again, a light airy sound. 

They were alone in the paddock except for one man sweeping the stables. It was early enough that the city hadn’t quite woken up. Rey wondered how Ben fared in the morning without assistance--if prince’s had wardrobe servants the same as she did. A whole team descended on her each morning to dress her as if she would be presented to the court. Which she never was, of course. 

Except soon. With the trial.

Rey swallowed and studied Kylo guiding Grimtaash around the paddock in a series of exercises. He had a deft, easy hand and her heart fluttered at the idea of them on her. She banished it. She couldn’t. 

“Did you hear about the newest changes? To the engagement?” Rey blurted out, her wiser self wondering just what the hell she was doing. Kylo cocked his head. 

“Has something changed?” he asked all too idly but she could see his shoulders go taut. Grimtaash’s ears flicked forward and Rey tried to smooth down the edges of her anxiety so the horse couldn’t see them.

“The Emperor has decided to bring back the trial by combat for his granddaughter’s hand in marriage,” Rey said quickly. Kylo froze and she wondered if he had felt a frisson of panic, the same she had. The same Rose had expressed. 

“I didn’t realize that was done anymore,” Kylo said finally. They were silent as he fetched the saddle and gear, sitting on the top rail. She watched him go through the motions of preparing Grimtaash for a day’s riding and wished she could tell him everything. Tell him what was being planned so he could prepare Ben. She hadn’t met the man but the thought of being Hux’s wife had kept her awake last night, breathing away the tears that threatened to spill.

“It’s a bit unusual,” she ventured at last. “The other candidate is, well...ge’s not royalty. He’s the son of one of the generals.” Kylo didn’t appear to hear her but his face was drawn tight and she watched him pet Grimtaash as he checked the bridle. He turned and beckoned her to enter. Rey tentatively strode across the area and gasped as Kylo neatly grabbed her by the waist and placed her side saddle on the horse. 

He adjusted her skirts so that they draped well over her legs. Still Rey’s eyes roved the grassy plains, seeking out any interlopers. She had convinced Rose to give her a hat today, a simple white head scarf with neat blue flowers embroidered along the rim. It didn’t hide her face but she wasn’t too well known. But with her hair covered, she blended more easily in with the crowd. Forgotten. Unknown. 

Feeling reckless, she adjusted her seat, throwing her leg over the other side so that she sat like a man. She stared triumphantly down at Kylo, expecting some sort of outrage. His lips flicked upward before tugging her skirts down, her boots sticking out before hefting himself up behind her. His arms looped around her waist and held her firm to his chest. A strong citrus scent cut through with leather and hay drifted in the air. 

With a click of his tongue, his thighs hard against hers, he guided Grimstaash into an easy walk out of the paddock and onto the trail. He was telling her about how the trail looped a small meadow and the clusters of fir trees but she found the words were merely white noise in her mind, too occupied by the heat of his breath on her ear. 

She felt foolish, a silly girl, clinging to her dreams, sweaty hands clutching pommel, Kylo’s arms around her as he lightly held the reins, kicking Grimtaash into a trot. The action had her jolting in the saddle, the edges of his collarbone making itself apparent as it bumped into her. She shouldn’t be so aware of the size of his hands or the pressure from his thighs or the warmth spreading along her spine. She shouldn’t care. 

Some part of her, the part that clutched her pillow at night and tore through all of her options at this new wedding process, wondered if she could marry Ben and have an affair with Kylo. It wasn’t unheard of for an Emperor to have concubines. Why couldn’t she? 

It was tearing at her that this new, fragile thing she was building with him wouldn’t survive. 

Some part of her needed it to. 

Grimtaash made quick work of the track and Kylo grinned, the curve of his lips brushing her ear. Rey inhaled sharply as Kylo flicked the reins and Grimtaash took off like a bolt, streaking toward a line of trees. Rey shrieked and held on tightly, pleasure tearing through her ad Grimtaash made short work of the run. He plunged into the forest, weaving through the trees. Rey shivered as the morning air still had a bite to it and Kylo pulled her tighter to him, murmuring about her needing a thicker cloak. 

Still the sweat gathered along her brow at the heat blooming along her cheeks. After a few moments, Grimtaash burst through the trees and Rey gasped. Kylo chuckled, a dark sound, velvet rubbing along her spine, and she shuddered. Kylo clutched her tightly as he pulled back on the reins, clucking softly, his chin resting on her shoulders. Too close. Too improper. His hair brushed her cheeks and she allowed herself a deep breath of his bright smell.

Below her was the city, the forest pouring out into a small plain before the low wall of the third level. The rest of the levels spilled out, each widely arcing into larger areas, until the harbor, stacked full of ships, and the sparkling sea beyond. It was a breathtaking sight, one she had hardly seen before like this. She heard shouts from the level below, merchants bellowing their wares, the creaking sound of heavy wagons moving along uneven streets. 

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, a tremor of wonder settling in her chest. 

“Yes it is,” Kylo replied and she turned, blushing at the intensity of his gaze on her. He reached up to tuck back some wayward strands into her cap. His thumb grazed her lip, his eyes dropping down to stare at it, and Rey shuddered, tongue darting out to sweep along the line. His eyes widened, his adam’s apple bobbing and she wondered if he would kiss her. 

The moment was broken by a shrill sound from below and Kylo jerked his head, scanning the horizon. Rey caught her breath, berating herself. It was too much. She was letting herself get caught up in this thing that wasn’t allowed to be. 

“We should head back,” she murmured, dropping her head. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her before he muttered his assent and guided Grimtaash back into the forest. She comforted herself with the heat of his body and the trilling of the bird song. They were soon back at the paddock and the warming air informed Rey that she needed to return to the palace. Kylo lifted her off the horse and she was sure her cheeks were aflame. She cleared her throat and turned back to Grimtaash, pulling an apple out of her pocket. 

“And here’s to you, you wonderful beauty,” she crooned. 

“And what about me? What do I get?” Kylo demanded teasingly as he ran a careful hand down his horse’s legs to check on him. Rey giggled and reached into her pocket, holding out a sugar cube.

“Maybe it’ll make you sweeter,” she replied and he grinned up at her, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Well if you’re going to treat me like a horse,” he warned, just as he grabbed her wrist and dragged his tongue across her palm. She shivered hard. She saw him register it, a flash of surprise melting into pleasure. 

“Kira,” he rasped and she shook her head, jerking her hand back and cradling it to her chest. 

“We can’t,” she protested, a desperate whine in her voice and he closed the distance, thumb dragging across her cheek. 

“You feel it. I do too. It would be foolish of us to deny our hearts.” 

“Our duties prevent us from following them,” she insisted. “You don’t know what he’s like. He could hurt you. I couldn’t stand it! “ Kylo hushed her then, pulling her into his arms, rubbing small circles into her back. She let herself lean into him, the sob that was rising threatening to strangle her. 

“There’s always a way,” he swore. “And whatever it is, we’ll find it. “

Rey scoffed into his chest. “You can’t make that kind of promise.” Kylo slipped his hand between them and tilted her face up. She was taken by the molten brown of his eyes, the gold flecks that burned with an intensity that threatened to swallow her whole.

“I believe in us,” was all he said before dropping his head and kissing her. Surprise burbled up in her. She had thought the prelude to her first kiss would be something more; something more than an argument in a paddock, the smell of hay sticking to her, a horse nudging her pockets for more treats. She had thought her first kiss would be a declaration of love.

But this was a declaration of passion. It was a promise and a threat, a tipping into a world she had been afraid to explore. She raised her hands, hesitated and Kylo grabbed them, pressing them to her neck before dropping his back to her waist. His lips moved over hers, a delicate scorching that unfurled within her and her clinging to him. 

A throat cleared loudly and Rey jerked away. A dark curly haired man stared at them, smirking at her. Rey ducked her head, embarrassment ripping away any pleasure, and with a gasp, she fled. She could hear Kylo calling her but she shoved it back as she tore along the third level, up to the secret gate in the back of the castle. 

It was unguarded as she ducked in, ripping off her cap and shoving it into her pocket. She dropped into the garden where she and Phasma had been training. Her other gown, something more simple but royal, was tucked in a bag behind a cluster of bushes. She quickly stripped her brown gown and slipped on the other, knowing that her hair was a mess. Rey could hear the servants moving through the garden as she lifted her head and scurried toward her rooms, fingers combing through her tresses before Rose could make some sense of them.

It was there, in her room, in the quick moment of silence she had that she caught herself in the mirror. Her high color, her eyes glowing, her lips thickly red, that she allowed herself to be pleased at her first kiss. At how all of her assumptions were wrong and how Kylo’s quiet intensity had woken up something within her. Something that left her wanting and dreaming and aching for a pair of pretty eyes. 

She dreaded meeting Ben Solo tomorrow. She had nothing to offer him. 


	7. Chapter 7

“You are not a princess. You are a figurehead. You must stand for all the beauty and the glory of the Empire,” Ciena Ree lectured as the seamstresses fluttered around Rey. Rey caught herself snarling in the mirror as Ciena tapped her lip, surveying Rey as if she were a land to be conquered. Ciena continued to circle the barely restrained princess, pinned and pampered and powdered. Outside, the sun was dying in an orange and violet blaze and Rey knew the pathway to the palace would be lined with torches and guards, glittering coaches full of nobility who wanted to watch the spectacle and be the spectacle. Rumors tonight would be given full life and she would be paraded out for their consumption and enjoyment. 

Rage simmered in her eyes, in the mottled red creeping like vines up her arms and chest. 

“I am not some prize to be won,” Rey got out through gritted teeth. Ciena gave her a droll look, almost bored, her eyes mocking. 

“Aren’t you though? What are you, Reyna?” As Rey opened her mouth to answer, Ciena walked around her, keeping her gaze fastened on the younger woman. “You can’t be Empress without your grandfather’s death. He won’t even cede accounts to you as, say, Leia Organa has done for Ben Solo so you’ve done naught to begin to rule this kingdom. Sure, you’ve had your little programs but what have they done? Truly? You are strictly confined to the palace. Outside of Rose Tico, you are allowed no friends and can you truly call your servant a friend? You’re not allowed to ride horses and your lessons with Phasma are a secret.”

“If they are a secret how do you know about them?” Rey hotly demanded. Ciena stopped and whistled sharply. The seamstresses looked up at her expectant. 

“Leave,” Ciena rapped out. The women began to gather their stuff as Rey protested they remain. After a moment the door shut leaving her alone with the former admiral. Rey bristled. 

“See? Even your servants don’t listen to you,” Ciena said softly and Rey wailed, longing to throw herself on the ground. But her gown was in a delicate state and any movement would tear the fragile fabric. Ciena seemed to grasp her dilemma and closed the distance between them. 

“This here is a perfect metaphor for you. You think you have freedom. You think your crown means something. But all it truly is, is a pretty prison.”

Rey sniffed, fighting back the tears stinging her eyes. “Why are you doing this?” Ciena tilted her head, studying her and Rey licked her lips. She had never truly been frightened since her parents’ death. Nothing could harm her, could it? Others could be harmed in her name and while that destroyed any credibility she could claim, it didn’t frighten her. It didn’t terrorize her dreams. It made her crown heavier. She longed to save them from whatever terrible fate her grandfather could cook up.

“It is a poor ruler who believes what they see in their minds rather than what the mirror reflects.” Ciena stepped away and Rey took in her image. She was wrapped in a beige gown, the tapered sleeves blending into the golden tone of her skin. She was tied down with ribbons, stuck with buttons, half of her face painted with kohl and rouge, the other half an unfinished blend of reds and blues and pinks. Her hair was in a disarray around her shoulders and her feet were locked into a stand that drifted up into a small seat that would help support her when standing too long led to shaking legs. 

She was a prisoner. A puppet. A doll.

She inhaled with a shudder and Ciena nodded.

“Everything you are is a facade,” she whispered. And then paused before adding: “But that doesn’t also mean it isn't a tool that you can’t use.” Rey cocked her head, meeting the older woman’s weary eyes in the mirror. Ciena’s mouth curled upward into a crooked smile. 

“You let them see what they want to see. Listen. Behave in the ways they expect. But ask the soft questions. Men will let their guard down if they think you are preoccupied with tea service. Gather your intel.”

“The first rule of war is to know your enemy,” Rey replied, well remembered from Thrawn’s lectures. Ciena nodded, pleased. Rey frowned. “Are they truly my enemy?”

“Do you not have a vision for the Empire? One that is equitable? One that is more than begging forgiveness from a harsh ruler?” Ciena snapped and Rey swallowed hard. Yes, she had some idea of how to make lives better. She thought. She hoped. Now she wondered just how clearly she had been seeing things. 

“Then yes they are your enemy. Unless they align with you, they are against you. Learn who your allies are. And who could be.” Rey stared at the ground, wondering if she were cut out for this type of world. She felt ridiculous at that moment. Silly for thinking she had some power or sway. Stupid for mooning over the brush of Kylo’s lips against hers. For dwalding over her lessons, too focused on how to get away and see him again. To feel the heat of his body along hers. 

But this was a dream she couldn’t have. She had to find her ally tonight in the field of men who would come forth for the trial by fire. She raised her eyes and lifted her chin, eyes going steely. Ciena smiled proudly. 

“Call them back in and tell me about the trial. Please.” Rey said imperiously, despite the softening at the end. Ciena gave a courtly nod and shouted for the women. They scurried back in and continued their work as Ciena began to explain the first trial. 

It was an ancient custom, rarely used in Coruscant, but more likely to be used in the far northern countries. An arena would be built where there would be burning lakes and structures on fire. A contestant would need to nimbly make his way through it as well as beating off his other opponents. 

“Because the fire may weaken some structures, it is a chance for a man to display his tactical skills. He will need to plan more than one move ahead to keep back his competitors and to survive the collapsing structures.” 

Rey sighed: “It all sounds so ridiculous.”

“It is an older custom, useful for when a king thought his daughter would live through times of war. “

“And here I thought our wars were over.”

Ciena gave her a pitying look. “Oh, child. War is never truly over.” At those words, something mournful settled along Rey’s spine and she tried not to shudder, forcing her eyes open as a servant coasted her lashes with thick black goo. The doors burst open and Rose rushed in, her cheeks pink with exertion. She grinned brightly up at Rey. 

“It looks like there will be four competitiors tonight. Tarkin convinced your grandfather to open the challenge. Prince Isolder of the Hapes Cluster will be here. As will Duke Kyp Durron of Kessel. Isolder isn’t a fighter though so I’m not sure what he hopes to win with this.”

“You certainly know your fighters, Miss Tico,” Ciena purred and Rose chuckled.

“It’s my job to inform Rey what goes on in this castle,” she replied primly and Ciena grinned broadly, complimenting them both. Rey’s feet were unlocked and embroidered golden slippers were placed on her feet. The small wooden heel in the back gave her an elegant straight line, the fabric clinging to her waist until it dropped in a smooth column of silken fabric. A single plaited braid, entertwined with gold ribbon, hung down her back. She was draped with chains then--gold washed chains with jewels dripping from them. Rubies across her shoulders, emeralds across her chest, diamonds trailing across her arms. Her waist a galaxy of jewels that winked in the torchlight.

Then the veils. A golden circlet was placed around her head and the veils, thick layers of diaphanous white that she could see through, was looped through it. Her face was unable to be seen until the very end--only a hazy outline. She would only be unveiled after the last trial--the trial of the heart. The goal, Ciena had explained, was to ensure that the man fighting for her would fight for her truly and not just for looks alone. 

“And how many more times do I need to go through this?” she asked plaintively, even though she knew the answer. 

Ciena smiled crookedly, tiredly, a lecturer bored with repeating herself.

“You tell me,” she ordered and Rey sighed, a gusty mournful sound. A servant tittered and Rose shot them a sharp look before laying a cautious hand on Rey’s back. Rey met her eyes in the mirror and hoped her gratitude was clear. 

“The five trails are part of the groom’s interview process, normally completed after the mother in law interview. It seems I will skip that until later. The trial by fire. A trial of courage. A trial of intelligence. A trial of compromise. And lastly a trial by heart.” She tipped her head and considered. “Is the unveiling done in the first meeting of the bride and groom?”

“Yes although typically you would have met before. In a room with a partition separating you,” Rose chimed in. “That’s fairly normal for most arranged marriages.” Rey shot her an interested look, brows rising as the veils were finally draped over her face. She made a face behind the fabric and wondered if she could tolerate this for all of the trials. She figured it was meant as a slight to someone, at some point in history, and didn’t like it. It furthered her hatred at being a prize on display. But with Ciena’s words in her mind, she also knew that she could observe without her reactions being watched. 

As the entourage led her down the halls to the platform in the arena, she wondered if she would see Kylo tonight. And was grateful that her face was obscured. 

* * *

Ben had spent a good portion of his day in a meeting with his mother. Leia fretted over their remaining, debating whether or not they should flee and let the chips fall where they may.

“It’s a trap,” she moaned and Ben sighed, going through his stretches, his sword nimbly moving through the Jedi forms his uncle had taught him. He knew it was a trap. He didn’t expect any less. Nothing Palpatine offered could be trusted. He vaguely wondered what Kira had told Rey, if anything. If Kira was a spy for Palpatine. He banished the thought but it clung like a persistent cobweb in the back of his mind. 

His stomach was a bundle of nerves, his throat tightening as their royal coach rumbled up the cobblestones into the palace. They were forced to wait in a line which had Han rolling his eyes and mumbling about sticky royal procedures and passive aggressive power plays.

“Why don’t you all just get out and stab one another? Nice and easy,” Han muttered and Ben snorted. He understood that he was being told he was a foreigner. Unwanted. Untrustworthy. His eyes followed the soldiers as they strolled around their carriage, podding the sides for hidden interlopers before ordering them through and down to the arena. Poe bit back a growl as Leia laid a restraining hand on his shoulder. 

The arena was glowing this evening. The stone steps were a veritable rainbow of silks from the pavilions being erected as well as the gowns of the courtiers clustering together around the trays of food and wine. Torches flickered in the slight breeze as Ben followed his parents to the balcony set aside of his family, draped in the Alderaan royal white and blue. He had chosen a simple outfit for tonight’s trial. 

Beige trousers and boots of supple leather that met his knees. A dark blue tunic with a white vest trimmed in silver filigree. Simple but speaking to his royal heritage, or so he hoped. He eyed the fighting space below--a shimmering lake that he suspected would burst into flames at some point. A multi level fighting platform laid out like a labyrinth. He would need to pass through an axe that might slice him and leap over a roller laced with spikes. Poe whispered in his ear, pointing out structural weaknesses that they could see from their vantage point.

“Isolder and Kyp Durron have thrown their hats into the ring,” Poe announced. Leia frowned and Han took a fortifying gulp of whiskey.

“Why Kyp?” Han asked just as Leia spluttered: “Why Isolder?” The two exchanged a glance heavy with meaning only they understood--some history they never relayed and Ben tried not to sigh. Oh these heroes and their histories, he sulked even as Poe nudged him with his elbow. 

“Isolder isn’t a fighter. He doesn’t need to be,” Leia added with a frown.

“It isn’t about Rey this time,” Poe added. “It’s about proving their loyalty to the Emperor. And he’s got his eye on the Duchess Teneniel Djo. This is a chance to prove himself to her.” He turned to Ben. “So watch him to do some flashy moves. He’s cunning. But he’s not strong and he’s not a skilled fighter.” Ben inclined his head as Han shook his.

“But not Kyp. Kyp is a street fighter. He grew up a slave in Kessel until he found out about his royal heritage.”

“Ah yes you’re good friend Kyp,” Leia all but purred and Ben narrowed his eyes. Han groused under his breath, tipping back his whiskey glass until it was empty and he stared at it in disappointment. Poe chuckled and Ben wondered just what all this intrigue served. He thought about yesterday morning--Kira’s body pressed into his, the delicate lilac scent of her shampoo, the heat that trickled down his spine when he kissed her. 

“Point is, he’s not afraid to fight dirty. Ben, be careful. Watch your back,” Han said, grabbing Ben’s arm and jerking him out of his reverie. Ben peered into his face, at the lines that seemed to grow thicker and deeper on his father’s face.

“I’ve been taught by you and Luke. I know how to watch out for dirty,” Ben said at last as a trumpet began to play a chipper melody. “And I think that’s me.” Leia sighed and came up to him. Ben swallowed the lump suddenly welling up in his throat. He forgot how little she was sometimes.

“Be careful,” she said. Ben said his goodbyes, catching only the last words of his mother as he exited: “I feel pity for this princess. No one cares about her. They’re all in it to protect their home countries.” He ducked his head as he strode down the corridor. A servant waved him down and guided him out, Leia’s words ringing in his ears. It’s true that he hadn’t thought much about Reyna other than how she treated Kira. She had assured him the princess was not abusive; she was unlike her grandfather. He wondered if Rey felt as caught as he did--another victim in a web spun by Palpatine eons ago that still ensnared them all. 

He found himself puzzling over their similar fates as he tramped down the stairs and stood beside the other men. He gave them a cursory glance--Kyp was small but wiry, a fury contained in a dark package; Isolder was elegant and lithe, and someone not to be underestimated; and Hux. An unknown. Ben could make out the muscles beneath the other’s black tunic and suspected he couldn’t trust his sparse frame. There a cruel bent to his lips that had Ben’s hand drifting toward his sword. 

At that moment, the trumpets sounded again and the royal procession entered. The well placed government officials strode out first, their red and gray robes fluttering around them as they divided and took their seats. Palpatine followed, shrouded in a dark hood, a thick golden chain around his neck, fat jewels gleaming in the torch lights. 

“Welcome, gentleman,” Palpatine cackled and Ben suppressed a shiver. It was the sound of dead leaves skittering along the ground. “I am pleased to see such fine specimens competing for the role of consort to my beloved granddaughter.” Ben’s brow twitched and a sarcastic comment threatened to spill out. He bit his cheek until copper trickled onto his tongue. Palpatine raised his hand and the doors opened again. Two women clad in simple white and taupe dresses strode out and parted, revealing her. 

The princess. 

Ben heard Hux’s voice catch beside him. His own mouth ran dry for a moment. He could make out the slender elegant column, bedecked in jewels, a literal showcase for the wealth of the Empire, sliding into a seat, her back ramrod straight. But it was her face that shocked him. Hidden completely by artfully draped white veils. 

And Kira was nowhere in sight. 

* * *

  
  


Rey bit back her gasp, grateful for the veils. It couldn’t be. It had to be a lie. 

In the line of her suitors in front of her was Kylo Ren. 

But not as Kylo.

As Ben Solo. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I traveled a lot the past couple of days for work and I banged this out and its probably full of errors. Sorry! Thanks for all the wishes, esp from my fellow tax season survivors! 
> 
> And yes I moved some stuff around, dropping both Isolder and Kyp's ages. Not quite as old as Leia but older than Ben.   
> Now I have to write American Ninja: Coruscant Edition.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben faces the first challenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for your kudos and kind comments! You are lovely! 
> 
> I hope everyone is doing well at this time. 
> 
> I'm thinking probably biweekly updates, aiming for Sundays.  
> Many thanks to bluewanderlust for beta'ing this! She really helped me clean up the clarity of the action! XOXO 
> 
> Any other errors are mine. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Rey was sure she’d never be able to take a full breath again. Her chest was tight, ensnared in a vise of her own making. Her hands burned from clutching her armrests, a hard pulsing that she couldn’t ignore.

The man she had been kissing, had been dreaming of kissing, was the son of one of her family’s greatest enemies. She blinked. Surely it was a cosmic joke. The universe could not be so cruel. But as Ben Solo tipped his face up toward her balcony she saw the moles that she had come to memorize. The pretty dark eyes that haunted her dreams, that had her curled in her sheets, a deep throbbing between her thighs that she had never known before him. She had told him her secrets. In turn, he whispered his own. The fears they had about this wedding, masqueraded as fears of the respective families they served. They laughed together in the dappled afternoon sunlight. 

It was a dream and a nightmare. She pressed her lips together, forcing herself to shred those emotions threatening to crush her like a tsunami. She couldn’t show favoritism. Her grandfather would be watching her every move. She ordered her body to relax, to study each of the men before her. To give away nothing to anyone watching her. 

“And now let us decide who shall go first. We shall draw straws,” her grandfather declared in his broken rubble voice, pebbles grinding against each other, amplified by the stadium. A cheer went up and she noted several sections were devoted to each candidate. Hux’s section was grim, almost silent, and she saw Brendol sneer. He hated these types of displays unless they showed the might of the Empire. She felt a trickle of pity for Armitage. She knew he struggled under his father’s expectations and wondered if this was the reason why he had decided to vie for her hand. 

Or if this was another game her grandfather was playing. 

Her gaze continued to sweep over the stands until they landed on the Alderaan royal delegation. She recognized Leia Organa and Han Solo. She had paid attention to her history lessons, despite rumors to the contrary. Kylo had let slip that Leia was as worried about this arrangement. Rey took the opportunity to study the couple from behind her veils. Leia was drawn up straight despite her diminutive nature. Her dark eyes, like her son’s, were fierce with dark rings from exhaustion. A weary defiance, Rey decided. The man next to her was tall like Ben, but rangy, his jaw tight. He wound his arm around Leia and gave her shoulder a squeeze. Rey’s heart trembled for them. 

A courier strode out into the arena and held out a fist. Rey licked her lips, offering prayers to any gods that may listen, and held hope for Ben Solo. 

* * *

Prickly energy prowled up Ben’s spine and he reflexively opened and closed his fist. He eyed the courier crossing the yard, a hand held out with 4 straws that all appeared of even length and two flags in his other hand. Ben tightened his jaw to stop his need to swallow down the lump in his throat as he and the other men crowded the courier. 

“We will draw from my left to right,” the man said sharply. Hux hissed. Ben lifted a brow but watched silently as the other men to his left began to draw. Isolder drew a short reed and inhaled shakily. Kyp’s straw was barely shorter. Ben drew a long slender reed and Hux’s was between them. Ben blew out his air. He would be last. So for him, it would become a test of fortitude. Could he survive watching the other men? And how would the test change for each of them? 

“There will be five minutes between each contestant. You are allowed to knock each other off the maze, of course,” the courier explained. “I will hold your timer and wave two flags. This white one, will tell you to line up. The green one will be your sign to enter the maze.” 

He was no fool. He was aware of how these trials went. The scaffolding would be near its end with him. He was taller and heavier than these other men. His brow drew tight as he began to scrutinize it more fully while Kyp began to warm up next to him. Ben and the others withdrew to the side tent where tables of fruit and drink were laid out. As if one could drink at this time, he scoffed, nearly astonished as Isolder poured himself a glass of wine and gulped it quickly. 

Servants raced around with torches to set the lake on fire. The various oil basins, nearly submerged, went aflame with a loud whoosh. Lines carrying oil snaked around the structure, dangerously close to the wooden beams. Ben watched another servant pick up a jug and begin to pour oil on the water. He growled under his breath. The crowd made appreciative noises behind him with a smattering of applause and Ben tried to hold his expression firm. His hand went to his sword and he nearly tore his lip biting down his ire. 

A servant came up to collect the swords.

“The trial by fire does not allow weapons. You have your fist, your feet, and your wits,” he explained and Hux snorted.

“Seems like it places some of us at a bit of a disadvantage doesn’t it?” he said coolly. Ben gave him a side glance as he withdrew his sword, handing it to the servant. Hux lifted a brow. 

“Your scabbard, milord,” the servant said. Ben turned a full imperious look on him, a look ripped from the playbook of Leia Organa Solo.

“You said weapon. I fail to see how this”, he lifted the limp leather, his dry words rolling with humor-“can be a weapon.” The servant blushed and muttered as he moved on to the next man. 

“You military men are all strength and no wits,” Isolder commented and Hux bristled. The torchlight caught a sheen of sweat on his brow and Ben felt a whisper of pity for the man. He imagined the military training for the Empire was similar to Alderaan and it was nothing like this. 

But Jedi training was similar to this obstacle. Ben closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, reaching for that deep well of stillness inside of him. He could hear his uncle’s voice coaching him through it.

_The Force surrounds us all. It binds us, penetrates us, it exists in every little thing. Find your center. Do not allow emotions to overwhelm you._

Ben exhaled fully, his emotions boxed up and placed away. Fear sent his heart racing in spurts and he raised a hand to his chest, feeling its erratic beat. His fingers trembled and he could feel his muscles coiling in his thighs. He was an arrow, ready to be fired, his body poised for its call. He continued to breathe deeply, forcing his body to wait, to not grow exhausted before his turn.

The white flag was raised and Kyp stood behind it, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Servants scurried around the machine, pushing levers and yanking on pulleys. The wood creaked and groaned and flames began to lick at the legs. The wood would grow weaker and the runner would be surrounded by smoke. Without taking his eyes off Kyp, Ben slid out the handkerchief stashed in his pocket and dipped it in a flagon of water. 

The green flag dropped and Kyp ran toward the wooden behemoth. He raced up the ramp when there was a grinding sound and an axe dropped, swinging in smooth steady strokes. Kyp barely slid underneath it and the crowd gasped. Paddles rose up, long bars cutting his path into segments. He would need to time each one right to dodge through it. It was cut up so that the runner couldn’t rest before a studded pike or a heavy chain would wallop him into the fiery waters below. 

Ben shuddered. It was a deadly obstacle course and he ordered himself to watch. He let his eyes drift once to the royal balcony. The princess, a slender bedecked toy, was nearly hunched, her fingers digging into her throne’s armrests. Palpatine, bloated and ghoulish yellow, cackled in delight. What a family to marry into, he thought cruelly. He scanned for Kira but did not see her in the servants assembled behind the princess. It didn’t mean she wasn’t there, he reasoned, as Isolder stepped up to the white flag calling his time. Kyp was weaving through the weapons, pausing when he reached the end to breathe. 

At that moment, a wooden wall shot up. Kyp waved his arms to keep his balance, nearly falling backward. The wall appeared smooth, with nowhere to climb. In that moment, a ball swung down and struck him. With a cry, Kyp was nearly flung off the scaffolding. The crowd gasped and ooed as Kyp tenaciously hung on to the rope holding the ball before dropping back onto the maze. The wall slid down. He rolled over and took a breath as the wall shot up behind him. 

A changing, fickle maze, designed to harm at every step. Was a spoiled princess worth this, Ben thought desperately, as Isolder began his march up the ramp. Having studied Kyp the slender man easily weaved his way through the first challenges. Kyp began his haul up a rock studded wall to the next levels. Ben could see the sweat pouring down his back, the flames flicking higher. A post shuddered and the ramp leading into the maze became enshrouded in smoke. Palpatine chortled. The crowd roared their approval. Anger began to unfurl, a slow burning that crawled along Ben’s spine as it tore at his calm. 

He cast a sneer up at the princess, her face hidden, the mark of a coward. He didn’t care about traditions. Let the past die, he snarled. By covering her face in veils, she was just as involved in this as Palpatine. She took no responsibility for watching these men, of letting her compassion show. He scoffed inwardly, thinking of Kira’s insistence that Reyna was not involved in court. No one could sit there as unmoving as she was and have any true feeling. 

He almost thought about losing, just to end this sham. He couldn’t be married to such a woman. He imagined whisking Kira away, promising her a life in Alderaan. 

Alderaan. 

His throat grew tight. He was doing it for her. His home. A memory of sitting on the Falcon with his father, a breeze ruffling the lake, a thread of music from the festival down the shore. Snow capped mountains in the distance and flowers in bloom, the air heavy with their scents, cut through by the sharp pine of the forests around them. His heart ached and his anger abated, still at the edges, waiting to rush forward again. 

He could do it for her. 

A scream tore his attention back to the maze. A sword had thrust up through the planks and had skewered Isolder’s thigh. The sword slotted back and Isolder fell to the ground with a thump, blood soaking his trousers, as he rolled off the platform and into the water. The crowd tore between cries of pleasure and cries of panic. Ben cast an eye toward Hapes' section and saw fear ripple through the crowd. A roar went up when a servant dragged Isolder out, still alive, gripping his thigh.

The white flag went up and Hux paused by Ben, tipping his head considerably. 

“The Hapeans are not really known for their military prowess,” he remarked quietly. They both watched Kyp scramble down a slide that bucked underneath him. Hux gave Ben a considering look. 

“But then again, I don’t think the military is respected in Alderaan. Too much farming and art.”

“Respected enough to hold off the Empire multiple times,” Ben replied coolly. Hux arched a brow, a smile eeking its way across his thin lips. 

“Careful, Solo. Such words are seditious. I’d hate to see you survive this only to land in the dungeons.” He deliberately brushed his shoulders against Ben’s, a hard knock, as he approached the waiting line. Ben frowned then dismissed him. But not entirely. He was fairly sure there was a knife tucked in Hux’s boot. A cheat and a coward, he thought. 

The green flag dropped. Hux raced up the ramp, his nimble steps allowed him to weave through the first several obstacles with ease. He studied the swinging weapons and the wall beyond, thrusting up at an irregular measure. Ben contemplated his turn. 

He gulped and dragged his handkerchief in the water again. Smoke obscured the first part of the maze, making Ben’s job more difficult. Flames licked their way up posts, and the ramp began to collapse as one post fell into the lake. Ben inhaled deeply, his focus narrowing. He tied the wet cloth around his face, leaving only his eyes. The green flag went up. He heard his mother shouting his name. The green flag dropped. 

His feet moved of their own accord. He tore up the listing ramp, clinging to the edge of one side. It was similar to Jedi practice in the forest, his mind solely focused on weaving a path. He dropped to a roll under the swinging axe, felt a whisper of air as it moved above him, the rope creaking. It was fraying and he sprang to his feet as it crashed into the plank behind him, splashing into the fiery lake, the ramp crumbling with it. 

Nowhere to go but forward, he thought, dodging his way through the paddles that tried to smack his chest. He paused before the crush of weapons and lifted his gaze, studying the swinging ball that aimed to knock off the runner before reaching the wall. It wavered now as it shot up, blackened from the fire that threatened to crumble the entire first part of the structure. Which would render the rest of the maze unstable.

A piercing cry tore through the air. He jerked his head to see Kyp screaming as a pike had been shoved through his gut. Ben gasped. The pike appeared from nowhere, right before Kyp had reached the summit of the maze. It withdrew into the wall and Ben swore he could hear the sucking sound as it tore through Kyp’s chest again. The man trembled, raised a hand, and fell into the lake with a loud splash. Silence fell, broken only by the crackling of the flames and the creaking of the shuddering wood. 

Sharp clapping broke the revenant hush. Blinking against the smoke, Ben saw Palpatine rise and cheer in apparent glee. He gnashed his teeth, anger pouring through every vein as he dashed into the weapons. He ducked, and as the ball swung down and he leapt forward to grab the chain. He kicked his feet up and out, thrusting the ball high into the air. He twisted the groaning chain as it wrapped around a pole. 

Ben let go with a final kick up, and turned in the air, landing lightly on his feet on the other side of the wall. The crowd cheered. He pushed it aside as he quickly made his way up the rest of the maze. He lost track of Hux in smoke. The screeching of the wood was loud as it continued to disintegrate around him. One half of a wooden ladder broke off. Ben danced across the slender bar before leaping to the other side. He heard the chants of the crowd, his chest heaving, the smoke burning his eyes and lungs. 

Ben could see the end of it now. A final wall to climb. The one Kyp had been climbing when a pike had been thrust into his leg. And at the top, perhaps victory. Or death. He studied the wall, throwing his hands out as the structure jolted. He stepped back from the edge and narrowly missed a blade arcing toward him from the dark. Ben skipped back, eyes darting around to see Hux emerge from the shadows. 

He huffed. He knew Hux couldn’t be trusted but to be so open about it was reckless. Flames roared up around them, a wall separated them from the crowd. From prying eyes. 

“It’s just you and me!” Hux snarled. Ben kept his hands in front of him jumping back as Hux swiped again. His foot slipped and he windmilled his arms to stay balanced. Hux grinned and plunged the dagger toward him. Ben twisted, grabbed Hux’s arm, and turned into him. He shoved his elbow into Hux’s gut. Hux grunted and stumbled back. Ben ducked and whirled, fist flying to slug Hux’s chin. 

The redhead wiped the blood at his mouth, his eyes sparked with hatred. Ben wheezed, smoke crowding out the last of the clean air. They circled each other, feinting, looking for an opening. Ben slapped his hand on his thigh, beckoning, his hand brushing against his scabbard. 

He snatched it and whipped at Hux, smacking him in the face. Hux screamed and lashed out, Ben shuffling back, aware of the edge. He surged forward, snapping the scabbard around Hux’s wrist and punching down. Hux jerked and Ben kicked up. He snatched Hux’s wrist and twisted, thumb digging into the wrist until the dagger fell with a cry. 

Hux threw his head forward and Ben’s nose cracked. He couldn’t see. Red washed through him, blinding him. He blinked rapidly, cursing the fire, straining with his ears. Jedi training meant all of his senses. He felt the boards creaking and through squinted eyes, he saw a dark shadow rushing to him. Without thinking, he plowed his shoulder into it and tossed the shadow behind him into the flames. There was a strangled scream and a splash. 

Ben groaned, eyes pressed shut, his hand dabbing what he was sure was blood coating his face. His nose was broken and he was standing on a collapsing maze. He had to get out. He forced his eyes open, his gut churning, bile rising in his throat. He needed to get up that wall without getting stabbed. 

Run up it, he told himself. Shaking his head, ignoring the pounding in his head, he estimated it was ten feet high. He could do it. He backed up to the edge and he felt his boot hit something. It was the dagger. Grinning and wincing in pain, he scooped it up, holding it firmly.

Ben dashed forward, muscles tight, and he leapt, sinking the dagger into the wood. A sword pushed out and sliced through his tunic, leaving behind a ragged red line. Wheezing, Ben hauled himself up, throwing one leg over the side until he rolled over. Through the smoke, he could see a patch of sky, a smattering of stars. He thought of Kira in that moment, in the gentle touch of her hand against his and he pushed it away. He couldn’t. Not now. 

Groaning, Ben hauled himself up to his feet and gaped at the pedestal at the end. There was a box. A simple wooden box. He stared at it and shook his head, biting his teeth against the sharp pain. Holding his hand to his side, he lifted the lid and stared at the simple scroll inside. Shaking his head and hearing the rumble of the structure behind him as it continued to be swallowed by the fire, he unrolled the paper. 

_Shout your answer to the sky_

_I can bring tears to your eyes;_

_resurrect the dead, make you smile,_

_and reverse time._

_I form in an instant but I last a lifetime._

_What am I?_

Ben’s hand shook as he read the riddle again. He couldn’t think against the pounding, the nausea rolling through him. He licked his dry lips and closed his eyes, reaching for his center. His calm. He thought of Luke’s words but all he could see were Kira’s bright eyes and the curve of her smile as she leaned against him. A treasured moment. 

He opened his eyes. He inhaled deeply and shouted: 

“A memory!” 

Nothing happened. Ben quailed and panic rushed him. He needed to get down. He looked around for a way out and coughed, the smoke threatening to overwhelm it. 

“Your highness!” he heard and looked up to see a servant dangling from a hook. The servant dropped a harness and Ben slipped it over his shoulder, grunting as he was lifted from the platform. He curled his feet up, chest aching, as they drifted over the fire to dump him on the balcony near Palpatine. He hastily stood up, all too aware of how awful he looked, but managed to execute a perfunctory bow. 

He could blame his rudeness on his injuries. 

“Young Solo, the only one who made it all the way through. How wonderful. Not quite unharmed though,” Palpatine chuckled. “You did a delightful job, Tarkin. I look forward to the next trial.” He paused but Ben refused to shrink from his study. “Perhaps he deserves an award, don’t you agree, my darling granddaughter?”

The princess moved forward, an elegant lithe creature. The jeweled ropes around her taupe gown twinkled in the torchlight. Palpatine tapped his chin and considered.

“Yes, perhaps a jewel from my jewel. Selecon one and give it to him. A sweet prize for a daring young man.” He smiled crookedly and Ben forced himself not to wince. He turned toward Reyna, his body protesting every move. The girl hesitated. Her features were obscured by the veils. He could make out the bobbing of her head as she surveyed the ones on her gown.

Before plucking a bright emerald off her finger and handing it to him. The crowd gasped and Palpatine’s brows shot up. Ben bowed, teeth gritting tightly, as he took it from her. 

“You are too kind, your highness,” he murmured. He kept his gaze down as Palpatine’s court brushed past him and ordered himself not to lash out as Tarkin came to stand beside him.

“This ought to be interesting, don’t you think, young Solo?” he began blandly and Ben made an equally bland reply. Tarkin offered a thin smile. “Do you know what she gave you?” Ben studied the square emerald surrounded by small diamonds and raised a brow. 

“That was her mother’s ring. Her engagement ring. I wonder what she saw that has you so favored. It certainly isn’t your looks.”

“And you’d know plenty about that wouldn’t you?” Ben sniped. Tarkin chuckled dryly before sweeping past him. Ben held his posture for a moment longer, made sure the balcony was empty before he turned to survey Alderaan’s section. His mother wasn’t in her balcony. He frowned. Then Leia rushed out and enfolded him in her arms. 

“Come on sweetheart, let’s get you taken care of,” she whispered and guided him toward comfort and home.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey learns the consequences of her actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been plague-y and as all of my accountant/tax people here prolly know, we've been run to the ground the past 2 weeks. Ugh. 
> 
> Hope you are all doing well. 
> 
> Thanks to bluewonderlust for her beta'ing! And check out her fic! 
> 
> This earns its rating. NSFW, unless work is at home, I suppose.

Rey clamped her hands tightly to her thighs as she followed her grandfather out the hall. She saw the courtiers glancing at her ring bedecked fingers, noticeably absent one very large ring. Her lip trembled but she held her head high, grateful for the veils. 

“Granddaughter,” Palpatine said before the entryway to the ballroom. Rey knew there was a reception afterwards but she longed to race to her room, to throw on her Kira clothes, and run to Ben’s side. To reassure herself that he was fine, that he would be ok. That he would still care about her, even if she were the granddaughter of the man who arranged for his death. 

“Return to your rooms and prepare for the reception. The Organa Solos won’t be present. And smile. Let them all know how pleased you are tonight.”

“Pleased?” She couldn’t stop the wobble in her voice. Palpatine’s face jerked to look back at her. 

He sneered, “Four brave men just fought for your hand. Is that not pleasing?”

“Two men died,” she snapped back, rage barely contained. She heard Rose’s sharp breath behind her. She felt the interest from the courtiers, their gazes prickling her neck. She felt Ciena’s disapproval. But it did not matter. She had to stand for something. 

“Only one man did,” Tarkin interjected smoothly. “It is unfortunate that Kyp Durron lost his life. But per our negotiations, his country will receive a reward.” Rey straightened, gaze narrowing on the skeletal man. 

“Reward?” 

“Yes, of course,” he continued smoothly. “It is not unusual for the fallen suitors to receive something. It could be better terms for the interest rate on a loan. It could be a shipment of some sort of medicine. Or food.”

Rey licked her lips, her cheeks burning, grateful that no one could see the flush creeping up her face. “I see. And what were his terms?”

“Does it really matter?” Palpatine cackle cut through Rey’s anger like a knife. She drew herself up taller. She would not display how she felt in front of him. She wouldn’t show how she cared in front of him. She remembered the men whose eyes were ripped out from seeing her ride. She would not lose another. 

“My lord,” she murmured, all too aware that Tarkin had given her a sharp look. After a long moment where Palpatine glared at her, the procession began again. Rey kept her figure ramrod straight, her steps even, her head held high. She felt Rose brush her fingers and she longed to grip her friend’s hand. She wondered how Rose fared through this whole ordeal. It was never easy to watch others die. 

Not that Rey knew. 

As they entered her apartments to change her gowns, Rey ordered everyone out but Rose. She stood silent as the servants shuffled out and Rose closed the doors behind them. Rey ripped off her veils and gripped Rose into a tight hug. 

“Are you alright?” she whispered into her friend’s hair. Rose nodded. They clutched one another for a few moments. Loud cries floated up to Rey’s windows and a clear singing voice rose above the din. Rey gave Rose a squeeze before letting go and stepping back. She brushed away her friend’s tears. 

“It was awful, wasn’t it.” Rose nodded. They knew it wasn’t a true question. 

“Who would want to be his son in law?” she added. Rose clamped a hand over her mouth. Her eyes darted to the side and Rey frowned. Rose stood on her toes and whispered:

“Spies.” 

Rey jerked back. Spies? On her? Rage began to boil and Ciena’s cool comments grabbed her the very last thread of her sanity. She couldn’t handle it anymore. She needed to get out of here. She didn’t want to be this man’s granddaughter. All he brought was anguish, pain, and death. 

She briefly wondered if she could slip away and be Kira for the rest of her life. If Ben would accept her, if he would give up his kingdom, and they could roam the countryside as goatherds or whatever. Rey frowned at that. What did goats eat exactly? How did one become a goat herder? 

The sudden realization that she knew very little about life outside the palace walls. It slapped and shattered all of her dreams. 

And the crystal clarity brought the knowledge that Tarkin and Palpatine must have offered the Organa Solos something to make participating in these awful games. She chewed on her lip and puzzled over what she knew about Alderaan. Not that much, she concluded. She needed more information. 

“Come. Let’s go into the washroom,” Rey said imperiously before sweeping away down the small hallway into her private washroom. The fire was always kept hot so the bath was always warm. The fires crackled underneath the deep bath, a lavish affair, made of pure white marble, and lined with lapis lazuli and rubies. Too much, she thought idly as she sat on the bench. Rose immediately began to remove the veils while keeping the complicated braid intact. 

“In here?” she asked idly.

“No, this is private,” her friend murmured and Rey nodded. Rose slapped her shoulder. “Stop moving.” The room was quiet except for the steady bubbling of water over the fires. They would need to bank it before the water would be cool enough to use. 

“Rose, how can you stand it?”

“Stand what?”

“Serving him. He’s a monster.” The steam rose around them, moisture clinging to her skin and beading along the top of her lip. Her tongue swiped it quickly while waiting for Rose’s response. The veils were untangled from her hair and dropped to the floor. 

“Why did you give Ben Solo your mother’s ring?” Rey twisted to see Rose, who promptly snared and ordered her to look forward. She was undoing the braids now, she sharply reminded her. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Rey said quietly. 

“Answer mine and I’ll answer yours.” Rey licked her lips again and thought it was a fair trade. She didn’t hide much from Rose. After all, Rose had given her a lovely throwing knife this morning. Rey had assumed that the knife fighting lessons with Phasma were a secret. Apparently not. At least not from Rose. _I wonder if I should make her my spymaster when I’m empress,_ Rey thought. It wasn’t a bad idea. People rarely paid attention to servants. 

It’s how she and Ben were able to rendezvous in the city. 

“You know how I’ve been leaving...and not explaining where I’ve been going?” she paused and Rose nodded. “I’ve been meeting someone in the city.” Rose’s eyes widened. “He told me his name was Kylo and that he was a servant. I told him my name was Kira and that I was a servant here. I didn’t know. Until tonight, that is.” Rey longed for the carafe of wine normally in here. She needed a drink. Several drinks. 

Hopefully the wine would be flowing tonight, she thought bitterly. It may be the only way to get through this dreaded reception. 

“He doesn’t know you’re the princess?” Rose whispered and Rey shook her head. 

“Not as far as I know,” she admitted. “And he was so brave, Rose. You saw him. You saw how calm and clever he was. When it was burning down around him, there was no panic. Only...only grace.” She struggled to name the feeling fluttering in her chest. The way that her stomach had twisted and clenched as she had watched Ben navigate the labyrinth. 

“He is a talented fighter,” Rose murmured. She paused and cleared her throat. Ice formed in Rey’s veins as she knew what Rose would ask. There was too much riding on Rey’s purity, or so she had been told. And romances often ended in a tumble in the hay, Rey thought ruefully. 

“No, no. We haven’t...I’m too careful for that,” she reassured her. Although...her thoughts trailed off. If Ben Solo was her intended, what was the harm in letting Kylo Ren kiss her and hold her? 

Rose was talking: “You put him in a dangerous spot to favor him so early. If Isolder isn’t out, then he and Hux will both aim for Ben rather than competing in the rest of the trials.”

“Hux should be disqualified for his behavior,” Rey seethed. Rose shook her head. 

“No, you know your grandfather would find it amusing.” That sentiment stopped Rey’s anger in its tracks. It’s true. Palpatine would find that sort of fighting to be a sign of a cunning thinker. He would call Ben a brute. He would determine that Armitage was someone suited to rule a country. Not someone who fought his way through blindly. But Rey had seen how Ben had hesitated several times. Compassion was important too, she reasoned. 

She closed her eyes and remembered how Ben’s eyes had tightened when he had looked at her. So much loathing. Hidden from most, but she knew Kylo. She had seen the flames in his eyes before a polite coolness had filmed them over. She wondered what he and Leia would make of that ring. 

“Hux is a coward, though. At his core,” Rey murmured and Rose nodded. “Ben is kind. He was worried about one of his servants who was injured. We could use some kindness around here.” Rey sighed and closed her eyes. It was getting late. Her grandfather would be growing impatient. She stood up and suggested they finish switching her dress out and heading to the reception before a guard visited.

Rose stopped her with a hand on her arm. 

“This is why I serve you, not him,” she whispered. “Kindness matters to you.” And she swept past an astonished Rey to head to the closet. 

* * *

The gown Rose had selected was certainly drawing attention, Rey mused. Her hair was down in loose waves, pinned back from her face with blood red rubies. Her gown was the same color, a dark rich burgundy swirling with black velvet, her shoulders exposed and dusted with gold. Her eyes were lined with kohl, her checks were rouged with gold and her throwing knife rested in a pocket. Rose had added it to the gown last night. What a darling friend. Rey had handed her a pair of diamond clips and told her to do whatever she wanted with them.

She hoped Rose wore them and threw her favored position in their faces. 

The courtyard was strung with paper lanterns. It was stuffed with courtiers in outrageous fashions from all corners of the Empire. She saw puffed sleeves, women bearing legs sheathed in silk leggings and men in doublets that nearly glowed in color. Laughter split the air and chased the bright melodies coming from one of three stages. Food on silver trays threaded the crowd, born by servants in black and red livery. She almost blended in with them, Rey thought in amusement. 

“Ah, so the princess finally graced us with her presence,” a cool voice brushed her ear. Rey looked up to see Thrawn in his medals, his blue paint dark in the dim lights, his eyes burning with some thought she didn’t dare follow. 

“Dressing takes a long time,” she parried. “I’m surprised you are able to walk with all of those medals.” The corner of his lips tugged. 

“And what did you think of tonight’s...event?” 

Rey looked around, brows knit together as if in thought. 

“I’m afraid I’m quite underdressed,” she replied deadpanned and he chuckled. He took two glasses of wine off a passing tray and took a swallow. He waited a moment before handing it to her. Of course. Poison. She took it and smiled gratefully. 

“Why does this tradition still exist? If we are a new world order, why would we keep something so harmful?” Thrawn tilted his head, weighing her words. She waited patiently, pleased that most people were too involved in their own dramas and intrigues to pay much attention to her. 

“Tell me, your highness. Why would someone want to marry you? If they are not in love with you, that is. “

Rey bit her lip. She didn’t take offense. “You mean in the Empire right? After all, there are other countries not part of us to whom I could be betrothed. To grow our borders.” Thrawn favored her with a small, toothless smile. She had passed the first test. 

“I would imagine it is to keep them in line,” she concluded. “After all, apparently even those who fail get some sort of prize to compete.”

“Horse, carrot, stick,” Thrawn said easily. Rey nodded, grasping the analogy. “A carrot to sweeten the offer. A stick in case they don’t want to behave.” Rey frowned.

“Does this mean that all of the contestants were threatened if they didn’t participate?” she asked haltingly. Thrawn nodded gravely.

“Durron, for example. They are desperately short of medicine and have a problem with pirates. If he agreed to participate, we would send our fleet to protect them. If not, well…” Thrawn spread his hands and Rey’s anger sizzled. Of course. 

“How awful I must be as a potential bride,” she commented bitterly and Thrawn clucked his tongue disapprovingly. 

“Nonsense. Curtail your pride, your highness. Is it you that is the problem? Or is it the role? Would he be an emperor or a mere consort?” Rey shook her head. Political intrigue was not her forte and she knew it. She didn’t want her husband to be beneath her but beside her. To guide her. And that’s why Ben is the best choice, her heart argued. 

“An undefined role and the Emperor as a father in law are prizes young men dream of, ” Rey wryly responded and took a hearty gulp of her wine. Thrawn shook his head. The music swelled and dancing began to spread out, forcing her and Thrawn against the warm walls of the palace. Rey watched the servants hurry through the door near where they stood. 

“What is one thing we discussed last week? Do you remember?” Rey rifled through her memories.

“The supreme art of war is to subdue your enemy before fighting,” she whispered, her eyes widening. “The way we gained our empire was through war. And managing an empire this large has many administrative problems and concerns. You want to cut the head off the enemy before its army begins to truly assemble.” She pursed her lips to consider. “Is Ben Solo truly the head of a rebellion?”

“Perhaps,” Thrawn agreed. “Alderaan has always been difficult. If not him, his mother. And he is certainly aware.”

Rey gave a dry laugh as the realization hit her. “So it’s not even about marrying me. It’s about collecting intelligence.” She wasn’t sure whether her laugh bordered on outrage or terror or relief. She was inconsequential in some ways. She would be brought out, paraded around. Perhaps never to be married. 

“It is possible,” Thrawn said as if hearing the thoughts racing through her mind. “We could end up in true war after this rather than just the rumblings of one.”

Rey finished her wine and rested against the wall, watching the dancers move elegantly to the swift and heady rhythm. She let her gaze rove over the crowds until she found the dias where her grandfather sat. And where Armitage Hux stood, pouring some of that special tea into a cup for her grandfather. She wondered what the carrot and the stick were for him and knew Brendol was somehow involved. And perhaps Hux’s own ego and rapacious ambition. 

“So what truly is my role in all of this? To be the epitome of elegance and beauty?”

Thrawn chuckled. “I’m sure you can handle one but not the other.” Rey glared at him and his smile was genuine this time. “I believe you truly to be a prize, your highness. If Solo or Hux come through, you will be married. There will be conditions. One might depend upon your ability to bear heirs. Especially male ones. Other consequences might involve sending him off to lead the army only to ensure he doesn’t return. Difficult to say. Much in motion at this time.”

“I know you, though,” Rey muttered. “You’ve got miles of plots already.”

His gaze was tight. “Perhaps. But my recommendation for you is to keep your head down and your ear to the ground. Never take anything at face value. And don’t choose one over the other. That stunt with your ring tonight? That put a target on Solo’s back.” Rey stood up, startled. But his words made sense. If it were down to two or three men, the one with her favor must be eliminated. Would he even be safe in his home tonight? 

“Oh, she came after all. Leia Organa is made of far stronger mettle than most are. You would do well in learning from her. She is politically deft. Most of the time,” Thrawn murmured. Rey followed his gaze to see Leia in a flowing white gown, with dark blue jewels resting in a collar at her throat. Neither Han nor Ben were present. 

“I thought they weren’t coming.”

“Typically, no. But Tarkin especially asked for her to attend. Notice how she drinks or eats nothing? Tarkin wants her dead. She won’t accept anything he offers. However, she’ll do it in such a way that lets him know that she suspects but she won’t be rude about it. It takes years to develop that skill. You might too, one day.” He gave her a sly look. “Or you can just stab him.”

Rey scowled. “Does everyone know?”

“No, only a select few. We’ve kept it quiet.” He turned to face her. “Some of us have a lot riding on your rule, Rey. Don’t disappoint.” He executed a quick bow before slipping into the crowd, lost from her sight in mere seconds. Rey sighed gustily and slumped. Images of her lounging on the grass while Ben herded goats still enticed her. Perhaps he wanted to escape as much as she did. 

Longing for a few moments of privacy, Rey slid along the wall until she entered the servant’s hallway. She looked over her shoulder to see if anyone watched her. She collided into something hard and heavy and stumbled back. A warm hand grabbed her wrist. 

“Kira!” Rey froze and looked up at the smiling, pleased face of Ben Solo. Her mind blanked as he helped her stand up. 

“What are you doing here?” she sputtered and he frowned for a moment. He was worn, his eyes tired with a dark purple bruise along his jaw. His nose was covered in some sort of white tape and his leg was wrapped up tightly. Compassion tore through her and she winced.

“Are you in pain? Can I get you anything?” she demanded. Ben shook his head, returning to the stool set aside for him. She fussed over him for a moment before grabbing a glass of wine on a tray going out the door. She hesitated for a moment before taking a drink. Ben watched her tightly. She handed him the wine. 

“It’s mulled, so it’ll help you feel better,” she whispered. 

“Do you have to do that often? Taste her food?” he growled and Rey drew back. She knew his secret, but he didn’t know hers. She wondered how to respond before he sighed wearily and leaned against the wall. 

“I suppose I can’t criticize. I have my own food testers,” he muttered before shaking his head and wincing. “It’s an unpleasant reality for being a royal, I suppose.” He paused and looked at her, tension thick in his voice. “How do you…”

“I don’t care if you don’t,” she swore. “You’re still Kylo to me. Still the same man.” He sighed, relief sapping him, and he closed his eyes wearily. Glancing around her and grateful for the shadows, Rey tucked her face toward the wall and reached for his hand, threading her fingers through his. He smiled. 

“I didn’t see you at the fight.”

“I was there. Just not with the princess,” she replied softly, astonished at how easily the lies slipped from her mouth. His lips tightened.

“Ah yes, the princess. I don’t know how you can serve such a callous woman.” Rey’s brows shot up and she bit her lip, her pride bristling. Ben continued: “She sat there, showing no emotion at all. Does it please her to see men die for her?”

“It does not,” Rey ground out through gritted teeth. “She can’t show emotion. The Emperor will punish her if she shows any favor.” His brow quirked and she pushed on, “Even now she is worried that by giving you her mother’s ring that she has painted a target on your back.”

“Yes, I imagine that Hux will retaliate somehow,” Ben mused. “What is his desire in this anyways? Isn’t he already her adviser?”

“His father is a demanding and exacting man,” Rey murmured and Ben nodded, wincing at the movement. He took a sip of his wine. 

“We are waiting for the coach to return. I thought I’d hide here and see if I could find you. And I did.” His eyes opened and he turned the full weight of his dark gaze on her. Rey trembled and sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, sure she was melting now in front of him. His gaze followed the move of her lip, hunger drawing lines on his face. Her belly tightened and his thumb began to draw circles on the inside of her wrist. 

“Come with me, Kira. Just for tonight,” he whispered. Caught in his gaze, Rey nodded. Her dream tugged at her. Her reason screamed at her. He drew her closer to her and she inhaled the cedar and mint that was him. 

There was only one answer. 

“Yes.” 

A few moments later, Rey found herself hidden in the voluminous folds of Ben’s cloak, the hood throwing her face into shadows. Her red and black gown marked her as a servant, forgettable, like those moving around the palace, or the servants calling forth the coach. No one would care that the prince of Alderaan escorted a palace girl into his coach. Her heart beat so hard that the pulse in her neck ached. And that was something to amend, her mind snarled as the coach began to rumble down the cobblestone drive to the exit. 

“Stay hidden,” Ben ordered softly, drawing the hood tightly around her face before pressing feather light kisses on the top of her head, her body curving against his. He was so firm next to her, his heart beat slow and steady. She wondered how he managed to remain calm, even as his fingers brushed against her breasts. She shivered. 

“Ben, I…” her voice cracked. 

“I’ll be good to you, I promise. It’ll be good for both of us.” His voice was thick, tight, and she took a lungful of air. It escaped as a moan. Ben slid his hand along her hip, his hand gliding up her chest to rest against her throat. 

“I can’t wait to taste you,” he growled. She whimpered, entirely unsure of what he meant. She lunged forward impulsively to press her lips against his. His mouth opened and he gripped her neck, his tongue insistent against her mouth until she surrendered. He tasted divine, she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, quivering in his arms as he plundered her mouth. She wanted more, she needed more, her fingers digging into his biceps, pleasure rolling through her at the iron corded muscles she felt there. He was nimble with a sword, brave. Not reckless. A perfect emperor, her mind whispered. 

She pulled back, breathing heavily, and took in his bruised lips. She trailed butterfly soft kisses against them and he groaned. 

“I might not make it to the palace,” he begged and she smiled, pulling away and tucking his hair behind his ear. He grimaced and pulled it back out. 

“I like your ears,” she teased and he made a face at her. She laughed, breaking the spell that had tightened like a vice around them. They were able to breathe, for a moment, even though she sat half on his lap.

“We should be careful though. Your injuries…” she trailed off as she ran her hand delicately along his jaw, marveling at the scrape of the stubble against her palms. She liked it and he did too, judging by how avidly his gaze tracked her. 

“We’ll be careful,” he promised again. “I won’t bed you. I know that there are rules.” She nodded, licking her lips, pleased that he had remembered her hastily constructed lie. She would toss it out for him, she realized. She would let him ravage her until she couldn’t remember that she belonged anywhere other than next to him. Or so all her romantic inclinations swore. 

“What is your plan?” she licked his jaw. He shuddered and clasped her tightly to him. She continued to kiss him tenderly as the coach thundered down the road and toward the Alderaan house. Ben shouted something sharply and Rey frowned.

“The stables?”

“Too many people at the house,” he replied. “There’s a room there. I stayed in it last night. I didn’t feel safe at home. Too many prying eyes.” He captured his lips in a firm kiss, his hands ghosting along her face as she sighed into him. She could be perfectly content in his lap, in his arms, his mouth pressed to hers. 

They arrived at last and hastily rearranged their clothes. Rey covered her face with the hood, grateful for the darkness as she followed Ben into the stables. Ben spoke for a few moments with the coach before it departed. He took her hand and led her into the softly lit area. Only a few lanterns glowed. A horse nickered in the gloom. Rey took a deep breath, pleasure settling along her skin at the familiar scents of hay and sweat and leather. 

He stopped at the end of the stalls. There were several doors and he opened one to reveal a small room. There was just a bed, barely large enough for him, she observed. There was hay on the floor, for heat, and a lantern. Ben struck a match and lit the wick as Rey drew the hood back. A small window sat near the top of the wall, letting in a milky steam of moonlight. It was quiet. She heard the hum of the insects, a soft neigh from a horse, Ben’s feet as he moved around the room. There was a wash stand by the bed with a jug, a bowl, and a threadbare rag. Ben barred the door and turned to face her. 

Rey swallowed hard. His face was transformed. The gentleness had been replaced by hunger, his hands suddenly too large, his frame too bulky. She shook as she dropped the cloak and the hunger fled, leaving only awe. 

“You’re gorgeous, Kira. Do you know that? Do they tell you?” She blushed. If only he knew the mountain of complaints, most of them designed to elicit a favor, that were thrown her way. But they meant so little compared to the admiration in his voice. She wasn’t sure what was next so she reached up to pull out the pins from her hair.

“No, stop. Let me,” his voice reverent. Nodding and sucking on her bottom lip, Rey dropped her hands. Ben covered the distance with one step. His own breathing hitched as he pulled the pins from her hair and carefully placed them on the wash stand. He ran his fingers through her hair, leaning forward to inhale deeply.

“You always smell like flowers,” he whispered. “I’d know this scent until the end of my days.”

“Hopefully, those will be far in the future,” Rey joked weakly. Ben drew back and looked down at her, suddenly serious. 

“My world will feel like ending if you aren’t beside me.” 

“But...the princess…” Rey fumbled, unsure of what to do or say. Ben’s face thundered.

“She is not in this room. Only you and me. Ben and Kira.” His voice rolled over her, heady and commanding. She could see him leading armies. She didn’t know how to refuse. She didn’t know how to tell him the truth. Closing her eyes, she nodded. Ben gathered her close and kissed her.

Each kiss was a revelation. Astonishment flooded her senses as he caressed her hair, tipping her face back, to kiss her deeply. His hands wandered. She let hers too, moaning in delight at how he shivered at her touch. Her hands found his belt.

“Take it off,” he ordered as he travelled from her lips to ears to her jaw to the hollow in her throat and left her a panting, trembling mess. Her body clenched as she pressed her thighs together. Her hands quaked as she struggled with the belt, drowning in the sensations he was teasing within her. After a moment it slid off. He slipped out of his boots. She kicked off her slippers and he guided her to the bed. 

_I don’t know if I can take his weight_ , she blindly thought, sinking into his kiss. Then he turned and drew her down on the bed, her body on top of his. She whimpered and his kisses grew more insistent, his hands at the ties on the side of her gown. He tugged at the neckline, bending her toward him. Her dress loosened and her breasts spilled from the top. He seized one eagerly in his mouth and his tongue rolled over her nipple. Rey swore. 

He was voracious, his appetite never ending, with lips that never left her skin. She became lost in the sensations of his hands roaming over her body. Her gown ended up on the floor, soon followed by his tunic. She learned the contours of his body, the taste of every slick scar committed to her memory. He coaxed cries from her as he alternated kissing and kneading her breasts, his hand massaging her thighs.

Ben flipped her in one swift movement. He kneeled in front of her and embarrassment reared its ugly head for a moment as he draped her leg over his shoulder. 

“None of that,” Ben chided. “You’re breathtaking, Kira. Every inch of you should be worshiped. I would be delighted to be your acolyte.” He punctuated every word with a kiss along her shin, his hand drifting down her thigh. “I’m drunk on you, my love.” 

“Liar,” she whined, batting away his hand. Ben caught it, bending forward to quickly kiss each fingertip.

“Never,” he swore. 

“You told me you were Kylo,” she breathed, all too aware that perhaps this was not the best time.

“And if I had told you that I were a prince? Would you be here now? Would you have let me take you out for a ride on my horse?” He was inexorable, she thought, and shook her head, lifting up to take his lips with her own. 

“Let me bring you pleasure,” he pleaded.

“I don’t want to injure you.” He laughed, a purely pleased masculine chuckle, and Rey blushed. He stopped to cradle her face in his hands.

“You won’t.” He kissed the tip of her nose before pushing her back on the bed. He resumed his study of her legs with his hands and his mouth before he dropped his thumb between her legs, brushing the delicate skin there. Rey’s breathing hitched. Her brain seized for a moment, her lungs refused to pump air. 

She was told never to let any man but her husband touch her. That her body was sacred. That it belonged to the Empire. She reasoned it wasn’t violating any promise she made to let Ben Solo’s hands caress her. To let his mouth consume her. But as his thumb gently dragged through her folds, she knew a promise was being broken.

And she found that she couldn’t care. Because in that moment, she swore to do whatever it took to make this man win the trials. To be her husband. To rule beside her. 

She gasped. His touch was feather light. He murmured soft, sweet words against her leg. She discovered how her body grew tighter, longing flooding her, with each soft kiss to the back of her knees. Heat began to build along her spine and she arched her back, his name spilling from her lips. His touch grew firmer, his thumb gliding away, his eyes glistening at the wet sound. He was teasing her, she realized through short sharp breaths. A swirl, a glancing touch, then away. 

“More,” she begged. “Don’t stop.” She wanted to chase the heat growing, the tightening of her body. Her hands reached for him and he kissed her ankle. She rolled her hips and he grinned. Ben didn’t stop now, all teasing gone, his mouth dropping open as she groaned and drove her hips against him, seeking the pleasure he promised.

A finger plunged inside of her and she stiffened. Ben continued to caress her folds, to stroke the hard nub that was driving her to some edge. She closed her eyes, nails digging into his arms and sighed. He began to slide his finger in and out of her and she mewled, sure the entire city could hear her. Another finger and she was trembling. He crooked his fingers, his touch demanding, her body caving into his every wish, her back bowing as she cried out, her vision whitening. 

She slumped against the sheets and Ben leaned forward to kiss her tenderly. He slipped his fingers out of her and she watched through slitted eyes as he slid them into his mouth and sucked. She moaned. 

“Are you alright? Do you hurt?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her. He tugged the blanket off the floor and draped it over them. She shook her head. 

“That was...that was…” But her brain had fled, unable to think. She blushed and buried her face into the crook of his neck. He kissed her cheek.

“There’s more of that, I promise. But now some rest,” he declared. 

“I need to go home,” she murmured sleepily. Ben held her tight and promised they’d be there before dawn. Trusting him entirely, she allowed herself to fall asleep.


End file.
